"Of course there is," he said impatiently. "Dick sees it's over between you two - it's obvious he has quit. What does he expect you to do?" (Fitzgerald, F. S. K., Tender Is The Night. p. 300. United States of America: Scribner).
This book at first seemed to me yet another typical story of infidelities and broken love. The more I ponder about it, the more complex it becomes in my mind. Toward the end I was undoubtedly enjoying it much more. Once again it feels like Providence put this book in my life exactly when I needed to read it, though, perhaps this is another trick that my mind is playing on me. Maybe because of my parent's current situation plus my own current existential crisis, the latter related to my going to see a psychoanalyst and a neuropsychiatrist to help me out of this terrible state I am in.
I am not sure if the story appears too me as sad, rather I feel numb and confused. The third part of this novel overwhelmed me. Right now all I can do is wonder in what state of mind was Fitzgerald in to write this kind of novel? I cannot help thinking of Beethoven, because every time I listen to his music I feel like he is immensely furious. This leads me to believe Fitzgerald was more or less of a sad person, with a permanent depression. This tought is reinforced when I think of the other books of his that I have read: The Great Gatsby and The Beautiful and Damned. Why do we suffer so much in life? I am thankful for having read these books because it has helped me realize that I also suffer too much, and this is not how I want to live my life. We are all going to be dead, so why not try to enjoy this finite time we are alive? It is just so hard to do, though. Being on my own has definitely helped. Meditating, doing the things I enjoy, like playing the piano. My advise is to focus on yourselves, because that is what most people unconsciously do anyway. Find a way to get self-generated happiness, inner happiness that does not depend on someone else. Because you never know when that other person is not going to be there to help you and you need to be able to stand on your own.
I am not sure if the story appears too me as sad, rather I feel numb and confused. The third part of this novel overwhelmed me. Right now all I can do is wonder in what state of mind was Fitzgerald in to write this kind of novel? I cannot help thinking of Beethoven, because every time I listen to his music I feel like he is immensely furious. This leads me to believe Fitzgerald was more or less of a sad person, with a permanent depression. This tought is reinforced when I think of the other books of his that I have read: The Great Gatsby and The Beautiful and Damned. Why do we suffer so much in life? I am thankful for having read these books because it has helped me realize that I also suffer too much, and this is not how I want to live my life. We are all going to be dead, so why not try to enjoy this finite time we are alive? It is just so hard to do, though. Being on my own has definitely helped. Meditating, doing the things I enjoy, like playing the piano. My advise is to focus on yourselves, because that is what most people unconsciously do anyway. Find a way to get self-generated happiness, inner happiness that does not depend on someone else. Because you never know when that other person is not going to be there to help you and you need to be able to stand on your own.
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