[] am []

[ i ] AM [ a dusty old book ]

On my drive home this evening, I saw a shooting star. And I'm realizing how naive I am now as I reflect back on that moment because with the deepest sincerity my heart could muster, I made a wish. My wish, the result of my life long pursuit of certainty.
Though it may be hard to believe---please note the sarcasm in my tone--- that I am still a child in my mind. I am in a constant search for gratification, a gold star, a stamp on the hand for  each accomplishment I achieve. This desire is not for the purpose of recognition. It is stems from I believe, the desire to feel . . . well, special.
I know, childish huh? The problem is, I am so intentional about everything I do. This when mixed with my idealistic tendencies--- can be extremely destructive. And this is my dilemma.
Like a book on a shelf in a library, I'm eagerly awaiting for someone to pluck me up and read me cover to cover. But as the saying goes, you can't judge a book by its cover. And the truth is, we all do.
This in mind I've created an extremely elaborate cover for myself, one that appeals to the eye and is not easily over looked. But on all accounts the content I feel, is nothing short of disappointing.
What does one do with a disappointing book? Well, they set it down, unfinished. They don't recommend it  to their friends. They don't rant and rave about how great the plot was, or how the characters were so well established. They set it down, on their coffee table, or their desk, on the ground or they leave it in the trunk of their car.
Worse then this, sometimes it is put back on the shelf and left untouched for an unpredictable period of time. The patient reader continues on in hope that the time they have already spent reading it will not have been a waste. But rarely, do they make it to the end.
The wish I spoke of earlier, the one I made on that shooting star I saw. It was for piece of mind. To know that I have already been written and read and throughly enjoyed by my author.

goodnight.