4/17

 I’m the pink mechanical pencil, and I’ve seen it all — the rushed math homework, the doodles in the margins, the late-night test cramming. I live in your pencil pouch, but I love when you pull me out and start writing with purpose. I remember that time your hand shook before a quiz, but you held me tight and powered through. Sometimes, you press too hard and I snap, but I forgive you — every time. I may be small and pink, but I’m strong, just like you. So much depends upon me, but I depend on you too.

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