Ah, where do I begin from. The person writing this is using a laptop to write my life story. How ironic. A Day in the Life of a Pencil.

Excuse the bitterness in my tone but, when the only thing people use you for is writing their sauday ki list, then it is justified.

Like, what happened to the days where they used pencils instead of pens to sign nikka naamay k papers?!

Pencil erase hosakti hay. Pens are more reliable. Pfft!!!!

Nikkah Papers can be lost too, why don’t we switch them for digital documents? I swear humans are so biased!

A Day in the Life of a Pencil

What saddened me the most the other day was hearing how my lead is toxic to humans. But, so are the horribly greasy burgers you guys eat past midnight.

I don’t see anyone trying to replace those. Talk about double standards! 

I mean, the other day, there I was sitting and catching dust on a table until this human (they’re freakishly tall, by the way) came over and started almost picking me up.

I have never felt such joy, I felt as though the purpose of my life had been achieved. That was until she said,

“Oh nope. I needed my sketching pencil.”

If you listened closely, you could have heard my tiny little wooden heart crumbling into a million pieces.

I mean, human; we’re all sketching pencils. The fancy names just come from our producers who want to earn money. I thought humans were smarter than this.

A Day in the Life of a Pencil

So, that’s my life. 

My friend, you might know him, yeah that guy was pretty famous in shakalaka boom boom.

That same show which made you want a pencil of your own which granted all your wishes?! No one even talks about the guy anymore!

Kinda sad to think that he is now only a long-lost memory for everyone. Maybe it is for the best though, he cries while singing his own theme song and I’m kinda tired of it.

The poor guy. I may one day become just like him.

Sometimes, from my dusty spot in an unnoticed corner, I watch the human crying because her mom screamed at her.

All I have to say to that is, become a pencil. 

Koi munh he nhe lagayega. You’ll be invisible.

Unless, aapko abhi bhee koi munh nahi lagata. In which case, welcome to the club!

But there’s something that I fear more than being left forgotten. 

The tiny humans.

The ground shakes almost as hard as my heart does from the sounds of their shrieks and running footsteps. Chaos unleashes as the rough copy next to me begins to wail in desperation and the erasers, they just stare at me hoping I am not sharp enough to stab them with.

While, the ink-pens sit in their posh mugs. Looking all smug as they give us the, I’m-better-than-you looks. Because, the humans care for them. They place them away from the tiny humans.

Ah, the tiny humans.

The tiny humans show no mercy as they pick me up and drag me across pages upon pages of the rough copy. My screams go unheard amidst their demon-like laughter  All because the bigger humans refused to give them their phones. 

A Day in the Life of a Pencil

The torture I go through is not half as bad as what the erasers have to endure. They give me sad stares, almost identical to the ones I’ve seen the big-big humans give to their children.

The children that spend all day and night watching a red logo on their laptop screens.

No offence to you, of course. I’m sure you’re not one of them *suggestive glance at your laptop*.

The most I can do is explain my life story and hope that someone one day realizes my importance. Like that guy did. I forgot his name but the human was watching him one day.

He said the words I had longed to hear for so long. // A Day in the Life of a Pencil

“Why don’t we use a pencil in space? Why do we only use pens?”


Let me tell you, the joy and pride I felt that day was incomparable. I could have cried.

Ever since then, I have been waiting for the human to put on 3 idiots again. Turning a deaf ear whenever the part where they give their reasoning comes on.

I guess my human isn’t all that bad. Sometimes, she uses me to write her diary.

She wrote something along the lines of, 

Everyone uses me and then leaves me to sit alone in a dark corner. I am made for so much more.

Well, at least I’m not the only one being used and left alone. Join the club, again. Because that’s the thing, pencils and humans have so much in common.

Minus the fact that we don’t let our tiny pencils stab and crush rough copy pages. Unlike someone.

So, if you:

Fear being the less-needed human among other humans.

Constantly fear for your life.

Sit in one spot every single day.

Then, congratulations! You’re probably 25% pencil. It’s in your DNA. Those splinters of wood you get sometimes? That’s just your inner pencil trying to escape.

One day, you’ll get to live my life through your own body. And then you’ll see what I suffer through everyday.

*plays the song, ‘pachtaoge’ in the background*

// A Day in the Life of a Pencil

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A 20-year-old cat mom pouring her heart and soul into writing.


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