My pen died today on top of my math homework right next to my backpack on a sad foggy Thursday. The kind of day I hated the most.
She was a one year old pen, she lasted pretty long for a pen. We all knew it was near, as the ink kept on disappearing into my paper . I saw my pen dying slowly, and writing slower as time goes by. We weren’t ready NOT today pen. I need to finish my homework! As I lay the pen down noticing it had no ink left my good mood turned into a sad moment. We had a good time together, me and my pen. We did projects together , homework and even my most personal notes.
People with pens they love will understand those who say ‘’there are thousands of pens, get over it’’ will never understand much of life’s joys. Too set on what is, but my story isn’t for those who don’t like pens or who don’t like much of anything. But the ones that understand when your favorite pen dies and you know that you will never find another pen, not one like her.
Yes it was just a pen. But she was my favorite purple ink, pink leopard part plastic pen. And I loved her. The soft ink on my paper as I wright or draw something it didn’t matter that I had a bad hand writing or bad drawer. My pen. My pens ink made it all better.
But at the end . my favorite pen turned its back on me . As I tried to finish my math homework. She Ran out of ink.
If im lucky enough I will have the chance to find another pen with the same type of ink.
And over time I shall get over it….. Maybe…