Day after day you remained perched on my desk, guilt-tripping me at every glance for not picking you up again.
I still remembered the day I brought you home from the store. There seemed to be an endless amount of potential that the words on your pages could bring to my life. In fact, I was more than delighted to have sent the little money I had on you, over what could have been a nice evening to the movies or a month’s worth of Netflix subscription. You temporarily deceived me into believing I was perhaps capable of becoming anything beautiful words could form: a writer, dancer, hippie, philosopher, entrepreneur…. there was no way I would’ve passed up the opportunity to know you.
Let it be known I appreciated the knowledge I have extracted from our short-lived time together. But why must you continue to emit non-verbal judgement as I go about my daily activities? As of now, you represent everything I thought you weren’t. You represent my unfinished meals, undone chores, piling schoolwork as I engage with passive entertainment like surfing Youtube and social media networks.
For weeks upon weeks I trudged to work, classes, and meetings with you. You would help me pass time with your many words of wisdom at the doctor’s office while waiting for an appointment. I couldn’t be more grateful but the weight you’ve placed upon my shoulders while in my backpack has no doubt made me shrink a couple centimeters if not more. I despise you for this. Shame.
Now I’m beginning to question your value. You’ve hurt my ambitions to achieve greater things in the world of literature. Admittedly, I should have read you months ago whilst the wonderful summer rays but I procrastinated. Now my OCD is preventing me from neglecting you completely. I am unable to start again with other great written works because of your presence. All I ever really wanted was to maximize the lessons learned from you –not read every word you had to offer.
Believe me, I wanted to learn everything when I caught sight of you. From insight on global economics to math to poetry. I convinced myself you were a worthy investment. Now tell me the honest truth –has anyone ever managed to intake your every word? Do they work? Are they users of public transit that trudge through the cold rain with you on their side? Have they elected to read you over papers they should have read for class instead? Perhaps they took you to more interesting places. Maybe they wrote their first published novel with you by their side, took you travelling and introduced you to everyone at a party. Your thoughtfully composed sentences certainly do deserve more than 15 minutes of fame.
Don’t even get me started on your fictional counterparts! Such tall tales of magical kingdoms, wizards and vampires have had more than enough unwarranted exposure at the bookstore. Sometimes the story even turns into something like a bad pun. A considerable effort to convey a message but the bad punch line leaves a bitter aftertaste. The time I thought I was capable of burrowing through a 10 novel series has come and gone along with a series of unfortunate events.
So, to the books I have neglected on my desk for too long, I can only say I want to be the ambitious ordinary superhero you told me I could be and reach my goals with the wise words you have kindly bestowed on me. Today, I have no choice but to retire you to my shelf along with some other dated folks and visit the bookstore again.