- It’s a fine line between your wavy hair making you look like a romantic boho, beachy mermaid… and an evil witch who has escaped Azkaban and is on her way to blow up Hogwarts.
- It’s a fine line between explaining that you have PMT and are feeling sensitive… and being an actual werewolf who might actually savage a field full of sheep.
- It’s a fine line between crying when you’re drunk because you’re finally able to let go of your inhibitions and express your inner turmoil and… being a boring party troll who ruins the evening for everyone because she can’t handle more than two glasses of wine anymore.
- It’s a fine line between wearing false eyelashes like a heavenly sixties Julie Christie and… looking like the severed head of the cross-dresser that Clarice Starling finds in a preserving jar at the beginning of The Silence of the Lambs.
- It’s a fine line between your use of social media meaning that you are thoroughly modern and aware that this is now the currency of the world and… providing the unhealthy method for you to form a meaningful imaginary Facebook relationship with that boy you loved at university, but who didn’t seem to fancy you, even though you were clearly perfect for each other and probably still are, in spite of him being married to some random imposter (why is her account private????).
- It’s a fine line between deciding to read Proust’s In Search of Lost Time because that would be a genuine achievement and how interesting to delve into the notion of fleeting time, the nature of memory, how loving someone means you love no one and… sounding like a pretentious arse who claims to be having a Proustian rush every time she eats a biscuit.
- It’s a fine line between attributing your feelings of madness to planetary shifts, full moon or arbitrary calendar dates to which you have attached negative significance and… sounding like someone who over-experimented with psychedelic drugs during the Nineties and shouldn’t really be allowed to drive a car or have a mortgage.
