Xie Tianyi, Class 5, Senior 2, Shenzhen Foreign Languages School Instructed by Lai Xinyan

My name is Daisy, a symbol of innocence and purity. I used to play a role of competent mother and perfect wife. At least, I do think I did. Since we went to Europe after the horrible accident, Tom, my husband, has become more and more indifferent to our daughter and me. In others’ eyes, we are a model couple, owning a perfect marriage. Actually, we appear united outward but are divided at heart. Sometimes I may think, what if Daisy had chosen Gatsby? What kind of life would she have? It must be satisfying, since he loved her so much. There wasn’t a chance for me to make a second choice.

Indeed, I didn’t have enough courage to betray my family. I know I was cowardly and vain. I couldn’t bear a life without good reputation and the label of high social status. Sometimes, I watched Catherine and could even predict her future, just meeting with the same fate as I did, arranged to marry a rich stranger with nothing else to be done. Must I become the woman I hated like my mother?

However, in an ordinary morning, she slipped away, to somewhere far from home, without one word, without an omen. She never came back. I only saw her once from a far distance. She was seated in a car with a young officer beside her. Having escaped from the cage, the bird is free now. A similar scene flashing back to my memory, it seems I used to be like that, leaning against someone and whispering. But who was the man beside me? Anyway, it was the past.

Why can’t I escape from this horrible, meaningless life, even if for only one second? I should come back to New York, and I did. This is the first time that I have taken a trip without Tom, just alone. I didn’t go to our living place, but went to the opposite. Gatsby’s house, the splendid palace is here, but the flourish isn’t any more. I can even go straight into the inside.

Looking around, I find so many things I was once familiar with. But I don’t feel anything now, just numbness. The night is coming and I stand at the pier. In the fog, there is a beam of green light. It’s so attractive that I can’t move my body. Staring at the light, finally, I understand what Gatsby aspired to. It is something untouchable but he always longed for. His story was full of hope, ending like a legend in water dyed crimson by his warm blood. My story is boring, no extraordinary plot except running over a woman. When I come home, of course I am still lonely.

But at least, I am tired of luxury and an empty life and am turning to a new chapter whose theme is no longer written by men and whose characters admire no money. I’m glad, for it is the best ending.