It was a matter of days before we were going to move to Minnesota, before we could live out our dreams. I was going to work a small job and have the spare time to care for you, my beloved wife. All I need is a roof over my head and you, my beautiful sweet Myrtle. But you disappeared in the blink of an eye without so much as a goodbye. So what use is it? What use am I? A house but not a home. Living but not alive. Of course, I would not call my way of life living anyway. I am nothing more than a ghost. I am convinced it was that worthless criminal. That bastard couldn't care less. She made me happy; did that mean nothing to him? But did he make her happy with his dirty money. Was she happy? WHY! Why did it have to be her? One minute I was sitting on the couch, discussing with her about leaving the Valley Of Ashes and who would have guess this was the last time I would talk to her. This is the last memory that you left me with.
She fooled me. But somebody knows. You can't fool god. Those eyes, goddamn patronising eyes! Michaelis can only see that it is a billboard but I am no fool... Those are not the eyes of Doctor T J Eckleburg. Those are the eyes of god. They saw... they heard... everything. He saw and he knows. God knows why he tried to take her. Why he stole her from my heart. I do not have much in my life compared to other men, so why me? It's as if i have been robbed, not of my possessions, not of the meaningless matter found filling the houses on east-egg, but of my purpose, my one and only reason to keep going, my love, my wife.
I want my hands around the neck of that son of a bitch that didn't stop; this man, Gatsby. Was Myrtle deceived by his money? The dog chain; why did she have a dog chain in her draw? Is this life she has been living behind my back I may not be rich or have fancy things but she kept on saying 'you can't live forever', was this directed at me, was she trying to tell me I was wasting her life? Was it Gatsby who also broke her nose? He must suffer, he's going to pay! And I will not suffer any longer; I won't let Myrtle die in vain. She will not be forgotten.
The first day I met her she was so beautiful. It was love at first sight. I worked so hard to make her happy; to put food on the table. It was a struggle, but then again, love itself is a struggle, my way of showing her my love. Unlike the people in West-Egg who can buy a women's love. I worked for mine. I hate this feeling of blankness. She can never be erased from my memory. I want to see her one more time, tell her I forgive her. Kiss her soft cheek one more time. I never had the chance to say I love you again. I want you to know that I love you.
But I guess this is my fate; this is my lot in life. Why didn't he just steal her from me; that way I could have accepted that, fixed it, shown and proved that I loved her. But dead... She is gone and she isn't coming back. I do not think I could adore someone as much as I did for her. I will destroy this so called man's dream like he had destroyed on mine. Like a flower ground into the dust like this godforsaken ash heap that Myrtle hated to the core. He will wish he had never been born. And it will all finally end but me killing him and his dream. My tears fall into the unthankful ashes while I walk up the long stretch of highway. This will not go on for long. Not long at all. I only need to prove myself to know and he knows I am correct. He can see everything. I know what I know. But at the moment, it really doesn't matter that much. I have just one deed to fulfil and I do not care about anything else. Not a thing at all.
Tom is such a disgusting young man. Disgusting in the way most women would find attractive. He doesn't love, he uses; just like Gatsby. Jay Gatsby. Jay Gatsby drove that car. Jay Gatsby drove that car that killed my wife. He didn't even turn back. Jay Gatsby is a murderer. A sick being, infested with revolting morals. Jay Gatsby, the man who drove the car that crushed my precious wife. You will get what you deserve Jay Gatsby, I'll make sure of it.
I will kill him that is the only way I can stop this pain. I will walk through his front door, and kill the useless man with my hand over the gun. I will watch as my finger pulls on the trigger. He does not deserve to live any longer. I wasn't sure if was the hatred or the depression that is making me do this. However I know I am doing the right thing. I want to see myrtle one last time. I love her too much to never see her again. She is the one the only and I know I cannot live without her.