What I was Feeling... When I Broke Myrtle's Nose
"Some time toward midnight Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood face to face discussing, in impassioned voices, whether Mrs. Wilson had any right to mention Daisy's name.
'Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!' shouted Mrs. Wilson. 'I'll say it whenever I want to! Daisy! Dai –– '
Making a short deft movement, Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand" (2.125-127).
What I was feeling... When I Broke Myrtle's Nose
If I'm being completely honest, I am not sure what I was feeling that night. It's the roaring 20s for crying out loud, the thrill of alcohol is what we live for. All I can notably say is that I was feeling good. That's the sole reason we drink: to feel good. No one drinks to feel anything else. My quick encounter with Myrtle and her ignorance towards me was a minor inconvenience of the night. I'm sure if I had to pinpoint an emotion to that event, it would be anger. I mean just review the facts: a low life impoverished woman to whom I graciously gave purpose in life to through my consistent love has the nerve to disobey me, taunt me and talk down to me. Sober or not, that will fill any man with any sense of worth with anger.
But then really thinking back on the night, if I had to tell you what I was feeling in the moment where I struck Myrtles face with my fist, I would tell you I was feeling nothing at all. Alcohol does that to a man, you know. I was at that party to unwind. I wanted to introduce my friend Nick to the extravagant lifestyle I lead. As the night progressed I let go of all emotions as a whole. I just partied the way a man like myself deserves to party. So when Myrtle comes along to inconvenience me and interrupt my state of euphoria, I don't think I was acting on anger necessarily but acting on pure instinct as my mind had shut down and it was just my body making decisions for me. And looking back on that night, I don't regret what I did even for a second.
If I'm being completely honest, I am not sure what I was feeling that night. It's the roaring 20s for crying out loud, the thrill of alcohol is what we live for. All I can notably say is that I was feeling good. That's the sole reason we drink: to feel good. No one drinks to feel anything else. My quick encounter with Myrtle and her ignorance towards me was a minor inconvenience of the night. I'm sure if I had to pinpoint an emotion to that event, it would be anger. I mean just review the facts: a low life impoverished woman to whom I graciously gave purpose in life to through my consistent love has the nerve to disobey me, taunt me and talk down to me. Sober or not, that will fill any man with any sense of worth with anger.
But then really thinking back on the night, if I had to tell you what I was feeling in the moment where I struck Myrtles face with my fist, I would tell you I was feeling nothing at all. Alcohol does that to a man, you know. I was at that party to unwind. I wanted to introduce my friend Nick to the extravagant lifestyle I lead. As the night progressed I let go of all emotions as a whole. I just partied the way a man like myself deserves to party. So when Myrtle comes along to inconvenience me and interrupt my state of euphoria, I don't think I was acting on anger necessarily but acting on pure instinct as my mind had shut down and it was just my body making decisions for me. And looking back on that night, I don't regret what I did even for a second.
Comments
Post a Comment