Dear student, today I am going to compose an autobiography of a pen. The first essay is in 500 words.
I am going to add more essays on the subject in different word formats like 100 or 200 words. If you need such essays, please comment below.
Autobiography of a pen
I am a pen. I am made of pure plastic. People call me a use-and-through pen. Now I am going to narrate my autobiography to you.
I was born in a pen factory in Gujrat. From my birth, I know that my ending. I know that as long as there is blood in my body, I’m useful. But when there will be no blood, people call it ink, in my body, people will throw me away. There will be no gratitude, no glory, no respect for my service.
Anyway, now I’m going to tell you the whole story of my life. I was born in a factory with thousands of clones of mine. I with the other nine like me was packed in a cheap plastic packet. I was ready to be sent to the market.
After a long travel in the cargo, I reached West Bengal, where in a stationary shop I was placed in the drawers of a shopkeeper to be sold in retail. I saw people come and buy things and go. Then a boy likely a student bought me from the shop. Another chapter in my life begins.
This is the golden era of my life. I saw the smile on his face. After the blur phase of my life, I saw some meaning in my life. I have written thousands of words and sketched outlines with the boy’s playful imagination. I have gained respect in the eyes of the boy. He liked me so much that he used me to write instead of other pens. I felt proud of my existence. I was so happy then.
I was not only a pen. I was the favourite tool of the boy. He used me to pick up things from the gap of the bench. I smiled and did my duty. That was really a nice time. But with time I could feel that the ink inside me was ending. It woos me. But I am satisfied with my life. As I have lived my life
Then the day came when the last drop of my ink ended. I was unable to scratch a single line in the paper. The boy tried a few times. But he was in vain. We both understand that it is time for me to see off. The boy put me back in the bag and picked a new one.
The golden era of life ended here. I was put on his study table for some time. I can feel the warm presence of the boy near me. But I can feel that he doesn’t care for me. I don’t blame him. It’s my fate. I’m happy with life.
After a few days, while cleaning the house, the mother of the boy, sweep me from the table and put me in the dustbin. Then from there, I am here in the junkyard to be recycled and to be reappeared in the new form for a new journey.
That’s the story of my life- the autobiography of a pen. I am happy that there is someone who reading the story now. I feel blessed. I may be recycled now when you are reading my story, I’m beside you at your study table.
Thank you for reading the autobiography of a pen. You may like to read more autobiographies like-
- Autobiography of a Credit Card
- Autobiography of a Tree
- Autobiography of a Coin
- Autobiography of a Bicycle
- Autobiography of a Car
- Autobiography of a Newspaper
- Autobiography of a Shoe
Have a nice day. God bless you, dear kid.
