WHY, owner, WHY?
So, *sniff* sad...
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| The Pencil (An essay) http://psypokes.com/forums/viewtopic.php?f=21&t=27434 |
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| Author: | shinashu taji [ Tue Oct 12, 2010 8:28 pm ] |
| Post subject: | The Pencil (An essay) |
This is my latest college essay. Normally I wouldn't post this but rex09 asked me too and wanted to see the final product so I am obliging the request. This is how it will appear as I turn it in. Note that the title is centered and the beginning of each paragraph has one tab space. The Pencil I am a very old pencil. I am very short and have a tiny nub of an eraser. I have lived a very long and filling life. My life has not been without regrets though. I regret not helping my owner more, and I regret that I could not help more people though. Let me tell you my life story. I remember my first day in the hands of my owner. The moment he pulled out from the box was marvelous. I could care less about how greasy and oily his hands were I achieved my dream. I was owned by someone. My owner picked me up. He caressed me he let my wooden body flow through his fingers. From that moment on I knew we would have something special. I was always being used by my owner even in cases where I was not needed. Every time that he sharpened me filled me with great joy. I remember the first important thing my owner used me to write. It was his first essay. I cannot remember what the essay was about, but he used me to write it. He put me to work quickly. The rough texture of my graphite and the smoothness of the paper collided. His hand moved me and guided me. I put the words on the paper that he could not. As soon as the essay was started it was finished. The words seemed to dance to life as my owner guided me, as he commanded me to write them. The blank canvas was soon painted with the words. He turned it in and that was just the first of many things I helped him do. Through the years we accomplished many tasks. Standardized tests, essays, ACTs. These are just some of the things we did. However we would not last. He could tell I would not last forever and I knew that fact as well. Every time I was sharpened my wood wore away. I aged and I aged slowly. I lived longer than any other pencil. Though the older I got the less interest and love my owner gave me. Why he did this I do not know. I speculate because he wanted to preserve me and my integrity. Maybe he just only loved newer pencils. I was still used only for the more important things. Those important things were becoming few and far between. Eventually our final task arrived. The final thing I would help him write before he would leave me forever. This final task was a note. It was a note confessing his love to the girl of his dreams. My owner took out a piece of paper crisp and fresh. Then he took me out old and worn. Where he would once be able to write the words with such ease became a difficult task. He had to work hard to keep a good grip on my short body. During the writing he muttered “this is the last time I will use this blasted thing.” My heart was broken he no longer loved me. I could only hope that this girl would spurn him and break his heart. I wanted his heart to break just as mine was, so he could feel my pain. I was now angry with my owner and never wanted to see him again or be used by him again. I would never know how it would turn out between him and that girl, because as soon as the note was finished I was shoved into my owner’s pocket. As soon as my owner returned home that one day from his school he took me out of his pocket. He placed me upon his dresser. My story has now come full circle. I lay here now alone collecting dust and hoping, hoping my owner would know the pain he caused me. Essay done by Max Robinson for English Comp I at NWCC. Oxford MS. |
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| Author: | rex09 [ Wed Oct 13, 2010 5:05 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: The Pencil (An essay) |
:'( it was |
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| Author: | searchman52 [ Mon Nov 15, 2010 5:55 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: The Pencil (An essay) |
*SOB* *SOB* *SOB* I am now hugging every pencil in my house. And Tape. And action figure. And book. |
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| Author: | Edoc'sil [ Mon Nov 15, 2010 6:41 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: The Pencil (An essay) |
WHY, owner, WHY? So, *sniff* sad...
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