My anxiety tied to my bookshelf?

Why do I have so many books? And why are there so many that I haven’t read? What is the drive towards accumulation, as if the book if not on my shelf would cease to exist in the world. Perhaps it wouldn’t exist for me, but I could be led to it once again. These books make me anxious. It’s like being stared at by a crowded room of people who I assume are smarter than me. Do I really need to deal with that? Are they here for other people to see? Are they simply here to tempt me? Maybe it is simply a lesson that I teach myself everyday, forcing myself to confront those texts that I have read peppered with those that I’ve never touched. What do they do for me? Do I need to read them?