In the last month, I've been bending backwards to buy books that entertain. Books I can stretch out and snack with. Just today, I bought Meg cabot and Betty Neels....and walked out of the shop feeling extremely guilty.
Is it what i know, or what i want to be known as? There are parts of my 'image' I rebel against. Sweetness, for example. What exactly am I trying to maintain? And should it alarm me if parts of me dissolve from time to time?
There's a huge debate hidden behind the conflict between the image and the reality. Whether the two even are separate.

I absorb environment...fictional, palpable...completely. I am liquid. To hold on is to restrict.

Now what?