Textbook troubles

I am a textbook. I have a lot of heartfelt words and no complaints. I am very depressed and troubled. I have to talk to myself and sigh my unfortunate experience.

My little master is a smart little boy, in the third grade. He loves to read books. His little bedroom is a world of books: bookshelves, desks, bedsides, books everywhere. Even the toy cabinet is filled with books every day... He watches the book and goes to sleep every day. The book is a good friend who is inseparable. He is a small book fan. He loves books, but he never loves me, a textbook that belongs to books. As soon as he saw me, he frowned, as if I could only bring him unpleasantness.

Whether in the classroom or in his home, every day, he is always unhappy to take me out of the bag, open it carelessly, slouchingly copying the pages one by one, writing, chanting Read like it, back... I am worried for him.

It’s hard to get over in a semester, my clothes – the book cover is broken, my body – the pages are wrinkled. I was dragged out of the bag by the little master and placed in an inconspicuous corner below the bookshelf. At this time, I looked up at this new home and found that almost all the little friends on the bookshelf were more beautiful than me, and they were more than me. The cover is more delicate than me, the paper is higher than me, the illustration is more beautiful than me, the color is brighter than me, the language is richer than me, the story is more interesting than me, the knowledge is newer than me... At this time, I understand why the little master doesn’t like me, hate I. I really don't deserve to stand with the little friends, I can't wait to jump off the bookshelf, get into the stove, use my sacrifice, and exchange a little warmth and happiness for the little master.

Ah, how much I admire the little friends on the shelves! How much I want to be a good friend who the little master likes, and accompany him to spend the golden childhood! However, who can make this beautiful wish come true? Those grandfathers, grandmothers, uncles, and aunts who care about the growth of small masters, come and help me, I beg you!