You should be embarrassed to like novels at all. You should be embarrassed to know how to read. You should be embarrassed to take pleasure in words, arranged into sentences, arranged into paragraphs, arranged into scenes, arranged into books. It’s unnatural, and you should be embarrassed.
You should be embarrassed to have once been a teenager. You should be embarrassed if you remember that time. If you are doing anything but strenuous behavioral therapy to erase your memories and feelings about having once been a teenager, you are embarrassing. You should be embarrassed to have been a pre-teen, a child, and most especially a baby. Babies are loud and irrational and have no control over their bladders. You were that way once and if you are not currently embarrassed about it, you are wrong not to be embarrassed.
You should be embarrassed to wake up each day. You should be embarrassed to put on a pair of pants. Have you ever really looked at a pair of p ants? They are very weird and embarrassing and you should feel embarrassed about them. You should be embarrassed to breathe. Why are you doing that? It’s odd and embarrassing!
You should be embarrassed to converse with other people, because other people may have different opinions than you and think less of your opinions and that makes you embarrassing. You should be embarrassed to have ever formed tastes and opinions. Who are you to believe that you have the right to tastes and opinions? You are an embarrassment.
Life is long and fun and easy, and that is all the more reason to feel worse about yourself and the things that make you happy. Deny yourself pleasure. If you ever feel it, even for a fraction of a second, make sure you immediately subsume that pleasure into your all-encompassing perpetual embarrassment–the simple existence of which is, as you know all too well, soooo embarrassing.