It has suffered much for me- wrote my emotions into pages of my diary making the words embrace the page like two long lost lovers finally finding one another and are overjoyed.
My dearest Pen, to which I owe my life and which I have held in my palms everyday, projecting bold words, messy words, foreign words into my compendium of diaries until the the pages are suffused with a blaring scream of expression and effusiveness that comes out in Royal Blue and Brilliant Black.
No other object in the world could be so spiritually attached to me.
To describe the spectacle- it is a blue 𝘗𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘳 with a thick, broad body, average height and right above the nib, where the fingers are concentrated, a yellow region dominates with a strong grip that is also due to raised, three dimensional markings on the yellow.
The blue is almost translucent and you can identify the region where the ink goes, analogous to an oil pump with thick, viscous fluid.
Whenever I felt melancholy, excited, happy, mad , I would deluge my diary with unbearable vocables and my Pen would act as the isthmus between my brain and the island of emotions and burdened thoughts- the diary.
There was in no way that I could travel anywhere, even to school, that I would leave my Pen.
Within a crazy two years, the Pen has inscribed words into three diaries. All of which came in black, concealed like the secrets within.
Now you must be realising what I’m up-to during free periods in the classroom, sequestered from my friends and everyone else , jotting down words. Pouring my heart out more like.
With the Pen in hand, every single word becomes significant- the time I wrote something, the exact minute, the context.
Here, I would become a historian rather than a writer and take my work in the most sacred and religious of manners. Writing down pieces of history for the ages to pass.
The feeling of keeping your emotions to yourself and telling the whole world simultaneously starts growing within you.
The conflict between secrecy and revelation becomes intense.
My dearest Pen, you are the 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 of erudition, enlightenment, perspicacity, companionship.
Through you do I convey my emotions and through you,my palms stop shivering. No other psychiatrist can come close to that.
Nothing can come close to you.
Personified as a human, and you will be my best friend. You have bared so much pressure from me and I am truly grateful for that.
My dearest Pen, if you were ever stolen, I would ransom all of my wealth for you.
If you were lost, I would die and a new pen would in no way compare to you.