"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning ——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
I’ve had a realization about myself today. Or, maybe I’ve finally accepted an idea I’ve had multiple times, an idea that has been pointed out to me by people who love me in the past: I have a problem accepting and processing the reality that some of my ideals are not attainable for me.