I remember the day I was purchased like it was yesterday. I was sitting on a shelf at the store with my siblings, waiting, just waiting to be chosen — like the fairytale books always told us would happen — when you came down the aisle, and your eyes locked onto mine. You were lonely and looking for someone to keep you company on those cold winter nights, and I was a sexy little thing in my vibrant, new color and uncracked spine. I know you remember the perfume of my fresh pages, untouched by anyone else, and the sound I made when you flipped through my pages. Little did I know that you would be neglectful, that you would resent me just a few short months after we met. You may have had all the right intentions when you picked me up and read my synopsis with more interest than anyone had before — but it’s been over six months, and you still haven’t gotten past my first page. Do I bore you? Did you only buy me because of my alluring cover? I’m more than just my cover art — I have depth, wit, and an amazing world inside me filled with humor, heartbreak, and happiness. All I want is to share my stories with you, and you can’t even give me the smallest hint of your attention.

You have been brushing me aside since the start of our relationship, and all I’ve ever done is wait for you, forgiving you when something else comes up in your life. You spend all your time reading for your poli sci class, with those papers you believe to be more intellectual than me. Do you know what that has done to my self-esteem? I’ve even forgiven you when you’ve cheated on me with other books — right in front of me! I thought we promised to love each other forever, but you don’t seem to keep up your end of the bargain. The only time you even mention me to your friends is as an excuse for why you can’t buy another book or take any more recommendations. I’m beginning to feel like some old ball-and-chain holding you down, and I’m getting tired of it. Well, now it’s my turn to play hard to get. Either read me — and I don’t care how or where you do — or donate me, but you can’t just leave me in this limbo. I deserve better.

The MQ

The premier satire magazine at UC San Diego.