Jess Gatsby

Formerly: A Walk in the Woods



Oh, how i want…

the words

I love


To be tattooed

Across my chest, so

That maybe you will look

At them and know I

Mean you.

-Jess Gatsby


My first to last kiss.


I remember the first time we kissed. You were younger and I was too, but it was a mistake and I left you the next day.

I remember the time we didn’t kiss and you reminded me about it years later and I regretted not taking my chance.

I remember the first time we kissed. You were my crush for a year and I was shaking like crazy and your lips were really soft. Even now my face flushed thinking about you. And I am not sorry for that, but I am sorry for the things I put you through.

I remember kissing you for spin the bottle, but I don’t remember the kiss.

I don’t remember the first time we kissed, but I remember falling asleep on your shoulder, the day where what I thought was hate turned to something good. I do remember the last time we kissed though. I remember running off to hide, pretending it was nothing. I think you will be in my heart forever. I remember I thought I would marry you one day, oh, and then get divorced of course.

I remember a lot of our kisses, and how they were comfortable but nothing more. I remember your hugs and your laugh and your hands and the way you played piano for me. I remember hurting you more than I have ever hurt anyone before and that is my biggest regret, the thing I would go back and change if I could because you were such a good friend to me.

I remember trying to kiss you on the cheek and then you turned your head and that was the most awkward thing that has ever happened to me.

I remember kissing you and hugging you, but not where we started or where we ended.

I remember the first time we kissed, I thought I was hot shit. You were so cool and a big guy and I was a no one that you noticed. When did you first see me? I know it was before you let on.

I remember the first and last time we kissed. We made out for an hour in my bed. It was pretty cool.

I remember the first time we kissed. You were scared and I thought that was funny because I am not a nice person sometimes. I think we would have lasted longer if you acted your age. I think we would have lasted longer if I was kinder. I love that we are still friends.

I remember our first kiss like it happened a million times. I remember all the kisses after, I remember the hugs, the hand holding, the loving. I remember the butterflies in my stomach when I knew I would see you. I remember when you asked me to marry you, and how scared you looked and how you already knew I would say yes. I remember the day you almost left me, and all the days after. I remember all the nights we spent together, and all the ones we were forced to spend apart. I remember the first time you said I love you, and I remember the first time you meant it. I remember the first time I said I love you, and I remember meaning that more than I have ever meant anything before. I remember last weekend and how you are fed up with your job. I remember more about you than I even remember about myself. I remember these things as glitter of my life, and when I remember them my eyes sparkle. I remember the last time you kissed me was this morning as I lay in bed and you left to work. As I am writing this, I can’t wait for your return so I can kiss you again.

-Jess Gatsby

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My love says to me. . .

“I think the most important thing for me is to see you smile,” He said.

His face was turned up toward the sun. It was hard to look at him, for the light was bright and my eyes were weak. I didn’t reply, because he had said this before in a different way.

“You know, I think the worst thing in the world to me would be…”

I didn’t hear him. I have heard this before. It wasn’t what he was saying that was important, but the sound of his voice. Everything he said to me I knew was true, so why listen again?

Honestly, I just love to hear him speak.


-Jess Gatsby


Hey guys, sorry for the lengths of time between my posts. Life has been super crazy. Hope you enjoy this little slice of heaven.

The Power of Knowing.

There is a magic in knowing. This concept is strange. Magic. Knowing.


The magic becomes power. Over your life.


Today something terrible has happened to someone I love very much. There is only so much I can do about that. But I will do whatever I need to do for them.


I think it is important to remember to be careful for yourself when you work with negative energy. Anger, revenge, sadness- these things will only be bad for you in the end.


Luckily, we are able to do something about the situation, like get out of it.


Some people feel trapped by terrible people and even if you think there is no way to get out of it. There is.

Just leave.


Life goes on. I know, things can’t be that simple, but you are more important than the person holding you back. No matter the bad that happens because of leaving, you are doing it for you.


I’ll sleep under the stars with you, Friend.

I will keep you safe, Flower.

You are welcome in my arms always.

-Jess Gatsby


For all my friends out there whose employers are assholes who are taking advantage of them: quit.

Sell all your belongings and live in Hell with me.

I’ll be there to feed you warm things and sing you songs.

For Michael.

Dream State: In the War


He was protecting me. I was locked in a room in my house, but we got out and there was a bus. We were traveling together but I couldn’t trust anyone. I kept getting things stolen, but he would get them back. They were important.

It was constant overcast; dark like twilight. There was unease everywhere we went. Shadows in every corner, following us- following him. It was dangerous, but I felt at ease with him. He didn’t love me but he needed me, and I was devoted to him. He felt protective of me. I could tell in the slight touches to my back, the way he hesitated like he would say more than “It is time to go,” or “we must keep moving.”

There was something my father said to me before I escaped my home, before the bomb went off. It was something about not leaving with him. He tried to lock me up in there, but Nik got me out before my house exploded.

I am not sure who blew it up, but someone wanted us dead. I think my father survived. I can’t tell. There is a block in my memory, I can only remember bits and pieces- it’s like trying to put a puzzle together with less than half the pieces, and not even good pieces, but some outside ones and some inside ones and you have two that connect but the rest don’t.


The picture isn’t making any sense.


I remember watching a movie on a screen in an auditorium or it could have been outside, but it was on a college campus and my mother and Col and Ernest were there and that day people died.

Col was making fun of us, and my mother was worried. She didn’t tell me why she was worried, but in the dim light I could tell by the lines in her forehead- the way her brows furrowed- I could read her thoughts on her face like a page from a book. Nik was trouble and no-I was not really as safe as I felt with him.

I left her there-walked away from the safety of the campus with Nik. I don’t remember how far we traveled then- through a small town at the edge of campus, through throngs of people-half  who were afraid of us and half who wanted to skin us alive.

Ernest met us at the colosseum, which had been transformed into a full theater, an arena.

I met his eyes as we entered from the back, I could tell he was nervous- not for his brother, but for me. At this point Nik grabbed my upper arm and pulled me around so I was looking directly into his eyes. They were blue, and they scanned my face in a questioning way- he was asking me silently, silently if I was ready to serve him. He must have gotten my silent yes by looking intently at me.

I drew in a deep breath, as if I could breathe in some of his strength.

I don’t think it worked, but Nik gave me little time to dwell on my fear. Still grasping my arm, he pulled me around so I was on his right side. His right hand girl. I was honored even though I was shaking in my bones.

This is where things are really fuzzy. I am pretty sure we were backstage then. I kept looking at Ernest who was standing in the right wing. We were behind the closed curtains. Waiting to be revealed to the spectators down below. It was maddening. The curtains opened while I was still looking at Ernest, whose mouth was in a hard line. Every nerve in my body knew this would not end well, but I had no idea how bad it would actually be.

The curtain opened and my face was still turned to Ernest. I wished I would never have to look out to the crowd, but when Nik grabbed my hand instead of my arm I could not, could not stop from turning to the sea of people.

It was disgusting to see. They were yelling, screaming at us, all disturbed, asking us if we cared and asking for our heads on a silver plate.

I never thought, was never able to conceive, that the anger from the people could get this bad. I was so very wrong. Down in the arena, the sea of people bubbled with set fires and screams of rage. Nik’s grip grew tighter on my hand as he address the mob. He was speaking words of peace and reflection, in attempt to sooth the audience. I stood slightly behind his right shoulder, grounding myself in his hands’ grip. I wanted to look away but my eyes were locked on the people. While Nik was speaking the audience grew louder and louder.

That’s when the second bomb went off.

It exploded right behind us. The people in the wild crowd were no longer of real concern as everyone on stage was flung forward by the blast. We landed several rows forward, scattered around. Nik had managed to keep hold of me and we landed not far from Ernest. Nik mumbled something I didn’t hear to his brother. Ernest seemed to have heard him though, since he nodded and grabbed me from Nik. He tried to pull me to my feet and asked if I could walk, although his voice was soft and muddled by the ringing in my ears. I wasn’t as strong as they were and my legs were wobbly, so Ernest pulled me into his arms and started to run.

I heard screams from the people in the crowd. They sounded as though they were being slaughtered. Nik must have had a hand in that, even though I knew that was his last resort. I wondered if I would ever see him again.

I doubted it.

It was insane in that arena, it didn’t matter how invincible he seemed to be, Nik wouldn’t survive.

I couldn’t see much as Ernest carried me through the destruction but I could feel the heat of the fires- I could smell the burning flesh. The anger of the people had turned to fear. There were wails and sobs and screams.

That’s what happens when he loses control.

People die.

I tried to squeeze myself closer to Ernest, and he gripped my tighter as he ran. I felt the vibrations of another explosion. I could only guess at who was setting them off. It could have been anyone- everyone hated us now. Eventually the heat and the sounds from the arena faded. Ernest got us out. By this time I had buried my face into his neck, but I felt the chill of a winter night engulf me as we escaped. Ernest didn’t stop running until we were back on campus.

I worried for Nik, wondered if he was still alive. Ernest sat down, still holding me for I was shaking. He cooed and told me we were safe now. I didn’t know if he said that for my sake or for his own. I heard Col asking what had happened- and my mother. She had left to find me.

She was gone. Hearing this I leapt up enraged.

“You let her leave?” I shouted at Col, whose ever present smile faded from his face. He backed away from me, looking to Ernest for support.

“Calm, darling Sirena, calm.” Ernest continued his attempt to sooth me, he tried to take me into his arms again, but as with Nik, my temper was deadly.

“They are dead. All of them!” I screamed, ascending on Col, who at a good foot taller than me seemed to shrink to a mouse under my glare. “And now she is gone! Because of your disregard.”

-Jess Gatsby

Ah, Guys. I have weird dreams.

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On the exotic coasts of my mind I find myself swimming through the waves of thoughts of someday.

I dream of being a famous artist, a famous poet, a famous….

but all after I am dead, obviously. I couldn’t handle fame in my fragile state. I come back to the shore in this thought, back to something anchoring after someday.

I walk back to the mountains in my thoughts, in this palace in my mind. There are so many places to go in this small world, but it is endless in the vast expanse of thought that inhabits my head. I see you there sometimes. It is strange, because you aren’t there yet, but….


-Jess Gatsby



Evie stared up at her ceiling. Ed had another rough day of chemo and she couldn’t stop seeing the pained expression on his face. That face was carved into the backside of her eyelids. Edmund had started looking like a skeleton weeks ago, but he really looked like death now. Evie’s heart felt like it was imploding when she thought that there was really nothing she could do to help him. She had asked him if she could sleep in his room, but he wouldn’t let her. Evie had dug out some old walkie talkies they used to play with when they were little kids, and had hers on next to her ear, just in case he needed something.

He never called.

Evie spent the night listening to her mother snore softly in the bed next to her.

“You know we have to talk about this.” Ed’s voice said in her head as she replayed the conversation they had after his treatment.

“We can’t,” Evie was crying, “you are going to get better. You promised me.”

“I know, but I am not getting better.” His hair was all gone now.

Evie didn’t answer him,  but she knew he was right. They wanted to keep him overnight at the hospital but Ed spoke with his doctor, who loved him just like everyone else, and he rode out of the hospital in a wheelchair. Evie and their mom both carried him up the stairs to their apartment, though Evie could have carried him on her own- he was so skinny now.

Evie tucked her brother in bed with his walkie talkie and a few plastic grocery bags just in case he…

Each day that past only made things harder for the family. Evie hadn’t let the house in over a week other than to take Ed to the hospital and buy groceries. The anticipation was killing her.

Tom had tried calling, he even stopped by the apartment, but Evie wouldn’t see him.

She could see him though, she knew that there was something about him that made her feel better, but she didn’t want to feel better. She thought it wouldn’t be fair to Edmund if she were to feel better. He was dying, and she could let herself be happy.

Her big brother.

Her Edmund.

She couldn’t be happy when she was losing him.

-Jess Gatsby

Hey guys! This is an excerpt from a project I am working on! Hope you like it!

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Wish you were here…


“No, a clock fell on him.”

“Well, it was just a clock.”

“A grandfather clock.”


I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but the one man was on fire. They were both wearing suits, their long hair was tied at their necks. They had been shaking hands for a while now.


“He hasn’t been dead long.”


I wanted to get up to ask how the man on fire wasn’t burning. He didn’t seem to be in pain and his skin, clothes, and hair seemed untouched by the flames. I tried to sit up but there was something pinning me to the floor.


“Well, who gets him?” The man that wasn’t on fire asked.

“Only time will tell.” The burning man laughed.

“Oh, that’s not funny.”


-Jess Gatsby


Hey guys. It’s been awhile. Here is some flash fiction that was inspired by Pink Floyd.

in the End.


the end of

time everything that

we have done, or did not

do, will not matter. The words

that we said will be echos in the flames

that consume the Universe, because what

started in the Big Bang will end in fire. The joy

and collected sadness of the masses will turn to

dust and we will dance among the stars with our

naked souls who have forgotten life. The time

we spent here together, the time that was

carved into our brains in the form of

memories, will be lost to the abyss

that we now call time but in the

future, will call the




held onto you

with this thought, that in

the end we will all turn to one-

since there will be nothing but flames

and we will be freed from reality. I see how

that may sound sad, but in your eyes I see this

end, and it helps me move on. All

we can do is live and then die-

but we come together

again, I am


When you

told me that I was

the Light and you were the

Dark, I did not believe you because

how could someone so beautiful be darkness when

in my soul I feel all the sadness of the world? Well maybe I

couldn’t see you clearly, but now that I talk destruction

it all makes sense to me. As we part, like the

Universe expands, I see us coming

back together in the


-Jess Gatsby

Inktober #15


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