Author's Note: The second part of the whole monologue thing I'm doing.  This is Tristan's POV on what it's like to be part of the Hartford social circle.  It's not very long but remember it's a monologue, not a novel.

Disclaimer: Once again, nothing belongs to me.  Gilmore Girls belongs to the WB and Amy Sherman-Palladino

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"Only five out of a hundred live their life accordingly to what they think and believe in their minds.  And four out of those five think and believe what others tell them to think and believe"
- William Mitchell

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The first thing I remember my father saying to me is that I mustn't be a disgrace to the DuGrey name.  He told me I must do all I needed to do to honour it.  That's a bit rich coming from him.  I don't need to do anything to tarnish our family name.  He's already done that for me with his countless amount of mistresses and endless bottles of tequila.

But, I have been raised on beliefs that anyone with less power than my family was to be considered second-class and all the rest of that snobbish attitude I get from him.  Besides, that seems to be the philosophy of all the families I have grown up with.  And I have foolishly believed what they say is right.  After all, if they lie then who tells the truth?

Sometimes, I can't help but wonder why all this was happening to me.  Why do I have to follow this way of life?  Why must I ignore all those of 'lower-class' when they all look perfectly normal?

Whenever these thoughts begin to enter my mouth, I grit my teeth hold my tongue.  The words of my father come flooding back to me, 'A DuGrey does not question what he knows.'  So I hide my questions behind my playboy persona and appear to be a non-caring tormentor of those lower than my status.

Of course, I did have my moments of weakness.  Not many people saw them but one particular person did.  Rory Gilmore.  I don't know how and I don't know why, but she can read me like a book.  She's the one person that can look past my façade and judge me for what I really am.  Or at least I thought she could.  For about fifteen minutes, she understood me.  She knew where I was coming from.  And then I had to blow it by kissing her and she ran out of the room crying.  Very smooth, don't you think?

After that, I didn't make much of an impression on her.  I went back to my old ways.  The ways of an upper-class snob, thinking I would get whatever I want and not caring who I hurt to get it.  Very stupid, I know.  But that's how I was raised.

There's a saying that goes: the circumstances you were born to is irrelevant.  It's what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.  I don't believe that philosophy at all.  The circumstances you're born to is relevant and it doesn't matter what you do with your life.  As long as I'm a DuGrey, I'll get opened doors and opportunities no matter where I go.  Or maybe that's not me talking.  Maybe that's just the result of what my father's sayings have done to my brain.

My path was decided for me before I could even talk.  They all took the same turns and curves as my father's.  So it doesn't really matter what I want in life.  People will look at me one day and say 'He's exactly like his father.'  The thought makes me sick but, hell, there's nothing I can do.

I have these thoughts that if, by some miracle, I do get a choice in life, the first thing I'd do is move out of my 'so-called' home.  Move out and away.  Away from Hartford, away from Connecticut, away from the US.  Away from the planet if that was remotely possible.

And then, I come back to reality, feeling strangely disappointed.

I need a life.  A real one.  One with genuine friends instead of the phoneys and groupies I have now who only like me because of my name.  I am so sick of being what I am.  How can anyone in this goddamn society stand it?  Don't they want to know what its like to have a real trustworthy person to confined in?  Don't they want to marry for love instead of being trapped in a bloody business merger marriage that their parents have arranged for them?

A thought occurred to me.  Maybe they actually liked living this way.  God, that is sick.  It makes me want to throw up, to know that these people would prefer their lifestyle and money rather than their soul.  They'd rather live in a world of parties and glamour rather than a world of trust and friendship.

And what's going to happen when we die?  Where are we all going to go?  I'm not really a religious person since my father filled my head with his teachings instead of the Church's.  But, I've heard enough people talk to know about Heaven and Hell… now there's a funny word.  Hell.  It was supposed to be a place where your soul was tortured for all eternity.

Funny.  It seemed like I was already there.