Another day of tiredness. I know the next day is going to be the same. When will this end? Will death defeat the state that I'm currently going through?  
Then came the night. The dark and cold night. I lay in my owner’s pencil case, sweet coming down my forehead. There, I lay. Surrounded by other types of stationary. I consider them my friends 
The next day came by. My owner was at school. She uses me for a lot of her work. She’s the best owner I ever had. Sometimes she gets mad at me a lot. Sometimes she drops me on the floor by accident. Sometimes she uses a lot of my ink and sometimes she never uses me at all. 
Today, my owner had English class. English isn’t really my type of subject. Although, every pen or pencil is born to help your owner write. It is a subject that uses a lot of writing. Today was one of those days that makes me feel uneasy inside. I don’t know why. 
My friends weren’t happy enough as I am. They were all doom and gloom. In fact, they were that depressed that they could even commit suicide, which is very terrifying if I saw that. That’s when my owner picked me up and started to use me to write. She wrote so fast that she nearly knocked the ink out of me. My friends were watching me as if they have seen a ghost. Help me! Please! I think I’m going to throw up! 
I was relieved when the bell rang. The class was finally over. She put me back in her pencil case. I can finally take a rest! Thank goodness I’m still alive! Or am I alive?