Who knows if this movie will suck, but I like ol’ Owl Eyes (who in the novel is a metaphor for God) saying, “Mr. Gatsby doesn’t exist,” because of course Gatsby doesn’t exist.
Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not. I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked. I have to be liked. But it’s not like this, compulsive, need, to be liked. Like my need to be praised.
Oh, me? I'm Stephanie. I'm a writer, a grad student, a worker, a jokester, a nerdfighter, a nyan cat enthusiast, an MS Paint fan, and a future high school teacher out of Bellingham, WA.