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?

The rest of the story is here