once upon a time, there was a pencil. all the other writing utensils laughed at him. the ball point pen, the fountain pen, the marker all mocked his short-lived impressions. the erasers would follow him, wherever he went, and erase his trail. poor pencil. oh, how he longed to have some permanence like the pens. he wished others would notice that he had once been there. all he wanted was to leave some lasting influence or impact on his world. yet, no matter how hard he pressed on the paper, his scribbles were always reduced to mere scratches.
one day pencil could not suffer through the failure anymore and rolled off the desk. the impact on the cold, hard floor snapped pencil in half and from that day on, pencil became a pen.