Daisy always knew she was going to marry rich. She was young and beautiful, and smart. Though most people didn't notice the smart part, the pretty was all they saw. She knew it when young men fell over themselves trying to get her attention and laughed at all the stupid airheaded things she said in her sweet little voice. Daisy knew that love wasn't going to help her in life, though she wanted love, wanted someone to write her heartfelt poems and messages about how she inspired them, and how she had taken up residence in their heart and soul. By the time she was 17 though she had given up on most of these childish dreams of love.

Then she met Gatsby when she was 18 and she fell in love and he fell in love and it didn't matter that they probably would never be able to be together or get married. She was willing to do anything to be with him, run away, anything- she loved how it was being around him. He was everything she wanted and so she promised to wait when he went off to war. And then she waited some more when he did not return to her immediately. It was the first time Daisy's heart was broken, normally she was the one breaking hearts. It stung.

When she met Tom Buchanan he was charming and rich, and he whispered sweet nothings in her ear and gave her expensive jewelry, and Daisy was hurt, so when he asked she agreed to marry him. They moved around a lot, from Europe, the South Seas, Santa Barbara, New Orleans, New York, and other wonderful places. She knew he was unfaithful, but she was good at pretending everything was fine, and he was rich enough and important enough to protect her and buy her pretty trinkets. She could be infatuated, she could be so madly in love with her husband that she couldn't stand to not know where he was. Daisy was smart and this is what she was good at, this is what she was born to do. When she became pregnant she hoped for a son, because it would make Tom happy and because it was hard to be a girl in this world. The world must enjoy laughing at her because she gave birth to a girl. Daisy hoped and pleaded to whatever higher powers there wher that her daughter would grow up beautiful, a pretty little fool, who would traipse through life without hurt, too stupid to recognize the barbs and the slights and the false laughter. Her sweet Pamella, her darling Pammy. She was smart, her daughter, only four and clever and so painfully shy. Daisy loved her but Tom said children were better off out of sight out of mind, and Daisy couldn't argue. She was good at figuring out where she could push and where the boundaries were. Better for everyone if she was silly, sweet, beautiful Daisy, and let him take his anger out his numerous mistresses when they annoyed him, Daisy was smart and Daisy was the perfect wife.

It was a good life, and Daisy was a good wife and then Gatsby came back, and her cousin Nick came the New York from out west. That was when things became complicated. Nick was so well-intentioned getting her and Gatsby together for the first time in years. And Gatsby was so strange now but also just as she remembered him and her heart ached. But Gatsby was nouveau rich and Tom was old money and their differences were so obvious at the party Daisy came to at Gatsby's house, right across the bay from Tom's house, her house. She was disgusted with herself and silent because she couldn't trust herself- she would give up all the protection Tom's name and money provided for this, and she was supposed to be smart, she was smart. She stilled kissed him back. She still started an affair with him, because if Tom could have an affair so could she, couldn't she?! She could, she would.

Daisy was good at reading a room but what good was it if no one listened? Her daughter had just left with the nanny, and Daisy had cooed and had been so happy the nanny took her away before Tom came, and before she had to answer the question her darling daughter had posed. And then there was such tension in the room, and she was scared and can't we go into town, let's go into town. Daisy cursed herself for that many times later, after the accident and the deaths. She said Gatsby looked cool, and she knew that Tom knew what she meant, and she knew he would want to go, to do something to get Gatsby out, so he said alright let's go. And Daisy hoped that by going upstairs the tension would die down, but it didn't so she could, 't be around Tom right now she went with Gatsby. And she waved gaily as she passed them parked in the garage of whose wife Tom had taken as a mistress, Daisy wasn't stupid she knew. The tension between Gatsby and Tom did not dissipate, Daisy wished it would, she loved Gatsby by Tom was the better choice for her, and she loved Tom for the protection he provided. She could say what needed to be said for her safety, and for Gatsby's safety too, and she couldn't say she didn't love Tom, that she had never loved Tom, but she loved Gatsby too. Though would he still love her though she had said she hand never loved not at all the places Tom had brought up. Tom could be cruel. Cruel to make them drive back together-Gatsby and her- and so she insisted she would drive, she needed something to do to distract her, she needed to have an excuse not to talk to Gatsby, she needed to think. And as they passed the garage Mrs. Wilson came running out into the road because Daisy could be cruel too, and Tom had ruined her affair, she could ruin his. She didn't slow, she did not stop. Later in the newspaper, she read that the woman had died instantly, that her body had been gruesome to look at. She learned that Tom had balmed Gatsby, and she wondered if Gatsby would blame her in turn. She had to be smart, she had not been smart lately, and look what had happened! She went and cried to Tom, his sweet, silly, little wife, who did foolish things sometimes, but that was to be expected from sweet, silly, little, wives. And Tom took her hand in his and she leaned in and she knew she was safe, no repercussions would hit her. Gatsby never said anything about her driving, except maybe to Nick, but that was okay because Nick could listen and listen and never tell. Nick was nice like that. Gatsby wound up dead in his pool, murdered by Mr, Wilson who then killed himself, a murder-suicide the newspaper obituaries read, Mr. Wilson was a man mad from grief and Gatsby's death an unfortunate side effect, and Daisy doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. She does neither as a pleasant compromise.

And so life goes on. Gatsby got what he deserved she hears murmured and she doesn't go to the funeral, or send a message or a flower, or anything sweet like that, but Nick does-he goes- and tells her after that almost no one had attended. But that is no longer Daisy's problem so she sets it out of her mind. She wonders if Nick thinks she is careless or cruel and maybe she is, but she is smart too- she has married rich and so she is safe to be careless and cruel. Nick is still so sweet, so small town, he isn't ruthless and Daisy hopes he can survive. She never sees him again except in passing after the events of that summer. Daisy is okay with that, the world is a large and cruel place and she does what she must. Daisy is sweet, and silly, and smart, and so very beautiful, so it is okay.

A/N: This was a creative project for English Class. I tried to piece together the multiple recollections and scenes about Dasiy together, but if there are any mistakes I am sorry. I also took some liberties like giving the daughter the name Pamella instead of just Pammy.