Profiled by F. Scott Fitzgerald....How did he know?
That’s where I encountered one line that stopped me mid-page:
“a wild submergence of soul, a dipping of all colors into an obscuring dye”
I felt as if somehow this dead man knew me. He saw my life-long pattern of dipping my colors into the obscuring dye of someone else’s values, dreams, interests, and actions. Not just boyfriends but I certainly remade myself in each relationship to fit his interests. How did this long-gone writer know about this wild submergence of my soul in countless vain attempts to gain what I didn’t know I could only give myself?
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