don't you dare put me on a bookshelf because you have decided that you may not want me now, but i may be a good alternative later. i am vintage, something that you should be appreciative of. but to me it seems like that is everything that you're not. yes, i am old and my leather on the cover is beginning to crack, but doesn't that make me more beautiful? yes, my edges are torn and frayed but that doesn't that just mean to treat me with more delicacy? and yes, the binding is falling apart and tearing at the seams, but doesn't that mean you should take oh so better care of me? and not just throw me on the top shelf carelessly just because you think i am useless, because i am not. no matter how many times that i thought that i was, i am far from that. i am a treasure. that someone else will gladly be able to discover. i will captivate someone, at least one, with every page, and every one of my letters, jumbled together to create words in black and white. yes, someone will cherish me and hold me near and dear. and that someone may not be you, but **** it, if it's not. please give me away to someone that will.