Who needs soap operas when you can be the drama?

I got a glimpse of myself today running errands. First, I went to The Book Bin in search for the next book I want to read during my daily workouts. After feeling that I wasn't going to find my next book at The Book Bin I proceeded to Borders. At Borders I searched aimlessly for a title that appealed to me. After about thirty minutes I came to the conclusion that I must have a sort of disorder. You know, one where no book sounds like it could hold your interest for two pages? That must be a disorder, in my mind. I then gave myself the ultimatum. Choose a book now. The pressure got to me in about two minutes of frantically trying to find anything quickly. Following my brief panic attack I went with the more logically approach of resorting to sections of books that I have finished in the past year. I hit up the business section, the psychology section, and all the display "Fall Must Reads." Nothing. My depression started to set in. "What is wrong with me?" Then my anxiety, "How can I ever make a career decision if I can't even find a book that sounds interesting?" Slippery slope. After fighting negative thoughts, I thought, "Why isn't their a book that is written that is describing exactly how I feel right now?" I mean, don't people go through mini-melodramas at the bookstore like I am right now? Don't people question their life uncertainties and insecurities in the fiction isle? Don't people ever feel lost or claustrophobic in their brain and nothing seems to mask the symptoms? I guess not. If there is a book written about that please let me know. In the meantime, back to the bookstore. I was getting to the point of leaving with the intention of going home, researching books and then returning at a later time. It wasn't what I wanted to do, I wanted to find a book, but it was one of two alternatives that came to mind. The other was to contact someone and ask him for advice on what book I should buy. In hindsight I knew I wasn't going to get a recommendation. I know I need to find the book on my own. So, I turned down all of his grateful opinions and suggestions. They didn't seem right for me. I know me. My mind and body were getting exhausted. I would like to add I have had a long day prior to this, so that me becoming tired is not so dumb sounding to you. As I was headed for the door a book made its way to my eyes. The title I didn't care about, but the description of, "From the author of" did. I remembered seeing this author before. I went to the section to find a book he had written before and opened the foreword. I did not find the book I was hoping on my trip to the bookstore. I can't say for sure, because I haven't read it yet. But, I did find a book that seems to be as analytical and overanalyzing as me. The book is called, "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs." I'll let you know if I ever finish it. But, the bookstore did become like a tell-all book for me. I am on a quest to always find the perfect fit, the perfect future, the perfect balance of uniqueness and practicality. When I can't find it I become scared, hopeless, and self-defeating. I am going through my life so bound and determined to be great that I have become so afraid to fail to find what exactly I want to be great at.