The book you keep meaning to read occupies a future version of your attention.

The unread book is a promise you have made to a self who has more time, more patience, and better concentration than the one holding it. It sits there as pleasant obligation, and part of its function is to be uncompleted, because as long as it waits you can believe in the version of you who will finish it. Intention gets stored in objects.

Have a look at what you are storing. Pick one thing that has been waiting the longest and either read twenty pages this week or let it go without guilt. Both are honest. What is not honest is the indefinite middle, where the object keeps collecting a debt you never intend to pay.