After reading The Great Gatsby, I had an inspiration for this.

Normal disclaimers-- I don't own Mark or anyone else.

Eh, sorry about the last fic. But it's called FICTION for a reason, dears.

Anyways. On with this.

I've often been mistaken for what I'm not.

I'm not a secret-keeper. I'm not here to just smile and nod, to just, you know, let people pour out their skeletons, shoving them into my closet.
I try my best to reserve judgement on people, but I'm finding that harder and harder. half the people I talk to are utterly boring, even my friends. They seem to drag on and on without letting me get a single word in; I've often pretended to be busy just so I don't have to listen to them.

I'm not Nick Carraway.

I'm here to observe, but I'm also here to give my commentary on everything. Aloud. Not in my head, not just talking to myself when I should talk to others. Not just filming life and people, but giving my commentary on it. Hell, I could become the next Warhol..minus filming people when they sleep.

Listen, I know I may seem to be shy sometimes, but that's only because that's what people have made me. I'm merely a product of Roger and Maureen and Collins and everyone else-- I'm merely a safe to lock things into. I don't have a personality, I don't have the gall to stop it all..in short, I'm doomed to be like this.

And what's worse, about being said Nick, is that I haven't found my Gatsby. I haven't found someone I love. I haven't found someone I hate. But, love all the same. That's killing me inside, knowing that I can't have a happy ending like everyone else. That's slowly edging out any remnants of my..'Markness', I suppose. I'm becoming a nameless sort of machine, recording what people tell me, hiding the tapes away forever in my head.

I don't want to be a Nick Carraway anymore.

I want to be Mark Cohen.

I want to be who I am, who I really am. Not just there to sit back and listen and observe.

I'm meant for so much more. I'm meant for more than to be a Nick Carraway.

I'm more than a Nick.

I'm a Mark.

Please excuse the utter shit it is.
Had to do it.

Dedicated to Jackie. I love you.