(so this was ALSO for school
but it was very recent, so yeah XD
enjoy <3 )
****
Lost: The Pencil's P.O.V.
By: Sunny
Tick. Tock.
The sound of a clock is the only voice in the room, offering a reassuring sense to the uncertainty of what might come.
Rows of neatly aligned desks patiently anticipate their living components to arrive the next day. The room carries an air of chaotic but childish enlightenment. Posters of supposedly motivating quotes coat the white-bricked walls. They contain messages like "YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU SET YOUR MIND TO" or "AGE IS OF NO IMPORTANCE UNLESS YOU'RE CHEESE" (which, alongside an annoying and stupid looking cartoon cheese, is rather bizarre). Collections of messy art stapled to Bristol boards add the only splashes of bright colour in this otherwise dim setting.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
No. The clock seems more like a nagging nanny, reminding you that time is fleeting and slipping away with every instant.
A feeble beam of moonlight manages to press past the array of clouds and through the windows. It faintly adorns the thin veil of dust that hangs still in the air, turning each particle into tiny white crystals. It seems almost majestic, how the dust is suspended and unmoving, with no disorderly children to disturb its peace.
Unlike the dust, I do not even remotely look or feel pretty. I am lying on the cold vinyl tile, black point dull and orange encasing riddled with old scratch marks. There is black dirt smeared on the ground only an inch away (so unhygienic) and a long strand of blonde hair just barely touching me (ew).
I sense a wave of loneliness as I lie here in the vacant classroom, feeling dejected. Well, as much as a pencil can feel glum.
The dark encompasses me like a thick cloak. It might be almost comforting if a living presence was here to lessen this deafening emptiness.
I have been all alone in this room for a few days now.
Why?
You should know. You are the one who left me here.
I can remember it as vividly as if it was happening right in front of me. I can recall the way you fiddled with me between your fingers. The way your leg jutted up and down with pent-up energy. Squinted nut-brown eyes were glazed over as the teacher had droned on about whatever obscure event that happened 120 years ago.
It had only been a mistake, I later realized. With your mind elsewhere in the vast world of jumbled imagination, a loss of grip was bound to happen.
I had fallen from your loose hold and clattered to the floor quietly. Not to worry, it only felt like my very existence smashing into a rock-hard surface.
You spared a fraction of an instant wondering where I went; your body had straightened, suddenly alert; eyes briefly flickered to the floor in small hope of spotting your fallen writing tool.
But then, your attention snapped to your friend, who had whispered an amusing comment. It was something about the lesson, I presumed.
You snickered and replied with a quiet jest of your own. The teacher had abruptly stopped his lulling speech to glare daggers at the culprits. You were left in silent giggles as the teacher continued with his boring lesson. However, soon that foggy look returned to your eyes, and all hope I had that you would retrieve me shattered.
Before long, it had been time for all the students to begin working. I regarded you with longing and trembling dread, wishing with every fibre of my being — wood enclosed graphite — that you would notice your lone pencil on the floor.
Your hand twitched. Your gaze turned downwards, and understanding passed over your face. Reaching into your pencil case, you pulled out a new writing utensil: a fully sharpened pencil of a glorious blue, eraser untouched and white.
At that moment, my nonexistent heart sunk.
You had... forgotten about me.
I then plunged into a shock-induced stupor.
My last sight of you was the beige soles of your converses.
In all five months and 13 days of my life, it had not crossed my mind that this would occur. Sure, I had toyed with the idea that you would lose me forever, but every time you dropped me or left me behind, you always turned back to pick me up. But, you left me here, all alone. Forgotten, tossed away like trash. Was I just a piece of garbage to you? Did you think I was merely something to be used then absentmindedly discarded when deemed replaceable?
An awakening betrayal. I never knew you could be so heartless.
No, you are not indifferent. You simply did not stop to consider: Haven't I been with you through thick and thin? What about that time you almost forgot to do your homework, but I was there to save you? Did you lose sight of how great of a sharp projectile to throw at idiot friends I am?
Nevertheless, lying here has given me time to think. Rigid as I may be, I might forgive you, because...
I realize I am not a particularly important belonging.
I know I am not part of your life in any lasting impactful or meaningful way.
And I'll have to live with that from now on. That is if I don't get crushed by a janitor's cart any time soon.
I miss helping you solve math problems or sketching quaint noses on cute drawings of humans on those math problems.
How long have I been here for, again?
Right, a few days...
Tick. Tock.
I think the chairs at the back of the room are mocking me. All so "high and mighty" stacked on top of one another. Ha, they seemed to laugh in chorus. Your pitiful existence is to lie on the dirty floor while we're up here living the high life.
Yet, their ridiculing makes me wonder: Do I have a purpose now? Will I ever leave this lonely room?
I am not sure of either question.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Perhaps if we could communicate, I could tell you all these things instead of wistfully imagining talking to you. Then you could explain why you certainly forgot about me.
If only I wasn't just graphite.
Then you would understand.
****
( yep
: D )
