Short Autobiography on Pencil

My story is something that might touch your heart. I was born in pencil factory shop and after my birth, I was sent to the shops where they send everyone else as well. We were those big pencils, a little different from the regular pencil and we had an eraser fixed on our heads with a fancy art. I felt special and as you might think that it was something special that happened to me. I was glad too, to be different from the rest and also getting that privilege was an honor. We were kept separately on the counter.

People used to come and buy the regular pencils and considering our lengths we were left alone. I was also damaged a little in the process of getting transported and I got a scratch on my body. I was red and blue in color and my head was white. The blue color faded because I got a scratch and people who really wanted to buy these big pencils left me behind. I was very disappointed but one day a cute girl came to buy a pencil. She was in love with my color as red and blue were her favorite colors. She saw me but she did not have the money to buy me. She was a young girl who came from the slum and she wanted to get educated and she was very much interested in studying.

The shopkeeper was an old man and a little rude and he asked her to leave as she did not have the money. The girl started crying but the shopkeeper paid no attention. Next to her was a girl standing who saw her crying and asked her what happened. She explained the scene to her and the girl bought her me. She was very happy and she took me and ran away. I was very happy when she was holding me.

The girl took me to her house and she started sharpening me. I always disliked the sharpener but I had no other option but to go through the process. I became very close to the girl and she always hid me somewhere before she leaves the house. I became her best friend and she stared interacting me.

She wrote her first alphabets using me. I was very happy and I felt glad that I am being useful to someone. Slowly she started writing more things and she started learning things on her. To use me, she had to sharpen me and every time she sharpened me she felt sad because my size was reducing.

When I was nearing my end, she stopped using and instead she bought some small pencils and kept me safe in her box. She loved me immensely. Today she is a grown-up girl, and she has become a teacher and she still has me with her.