The Great Gatsby

Dear Prince of Denmark,

Words cannot explain how miserable I am, due to all the despairing events that have been occurring in my life. You may believe that the loss of your father, King Hamlet, and your mother’s hasty marriage may be all of end all. All of those events in your life aren’t compatible with all the sorrow I’ve received from Daisy, Tom, and everyone who I’ve been associated with throughout my entire life. All of the people I thought were my friends, never attended my funeral. It was clear that all the wealth and luxury I achieved throughout my lifetime never brought me the happiness I desired. I lived my entire life buying my way into joy and lost my life because of it. My entire life was a lie, you my friend lived with people who loved you, with the exception of your step-father, Claudius. I was associated with criminals such as Meyer Wolfshiem and kept it a secret the entire time. I choose to do business the illegal way by smuggling alcohol just so everyone who attended my parties would have a quality time. My life was corrupt, and all the wealth, glamour and material possessions I had never helped me achieve the ultimate goal I dreamed of reaching, which was to win Daisy over her bully-like husband, Tom. You may think that losing Ophelia was tougher for you, but no pain is equal to seeing your first love pick another man over you. At least Ophelia loved you with all of her heart; you just undervalued her love for you. Daisy had promised me that she will patiently wait for my return from the war; however she broke her vow and betrayed me. Ophelia never promised you anything, all she wanted was your love and affection. I lived in a world where dreams are exposed as illusions; a world in which unfeeling men such as Tom receive love from women who are longed for by dreamers such as me. Everything I told my trustworthy friend Nick, were lies. I was embarrassed about my past and family’s poverty. I was killed by mistaken identity and because of the spoken lies told by Tom. I wasn’t the cause of my own death. Tom protected his wife Daisy and told George Wilson that I was the one driving the Rolls Royce. I wasn’t the one who hit Myrtle. At the end of it all, I was shot cold blooded in my own pool. If I hadn’t stopped one of the butler’s to clean out the pool, I wouldn’t have been outside. Throughout my life I made many regretful decisions, however, it was all in pursuit in happiness. You had friends like Horatio, Marcellus, but I never had anyone except, Nick Carraway. I am curious to read what you have to say about your life. I doubt it will be worse than mine. Although we both had to deal with complex issues throughout our lifetime, there is no doubt that the difficulties in my life were tougher to handle. I am looking forward to hearing back from you Hamlet, best wishes. Sincerely, Gatsby