The written autobiography of a writer

I have seen many come, and many go and many stay on forever. I have seen fictions being made, imaginations been drawn, dreams come true and also those that remained so. I have built people and i have built lives, i have gone on for days to come to an abrupt stop. I am a persons identity at time, character at others. I have witnessed the life that one wished for and the life they wished they never had and it all came down from my brain fluid. I am a pen.

Some people smirk when they open me from a packed box that say “with love, aunt Sarah” and poor aunt Sarah gets nothing more than an ignorant and obligatory smile simply because i am not something interesting, i do not fly neither do i create virtual worlds for my holder to seek refuge in, i just write and thus i am boring. While i have seen such kids i have also met people who quiver about getting me in newer forms every now them, i have names that appeal to them like the name of a bottle of scotch to an alcoholic. To them i am a collectible, a piece of emerald in their gold clad chest and something they boast about. Though i cant say that they use me to my satisfaction but at the same time i cannot deny that i do not enjoy the attention on strange palms. I can feel their pulse as they look down at me and wave me in the air to mimic their signatures, i can see the diamond reflect in their pupils as they look to the one on my head through the glass doors of my cage. I feel proud, oh yes i do! But happy ? well…….i guess the “well” says it all.

Like every breed of bird is divided into two sects so is our society, the one behind the gold cage and the other on the dusty branch of an amazonian forest. And thus comes the third kind of people in the freckled fingers of whom my life finds its true meaning. The ape men in the dense forest of words. They make me work, they scratch with me, make me bite trough lines, makes me write them and sometimes in a manner i write things that hold the meaning of what actually is unwritten. They show me my world and i play, swirve, read, mark and write my way through it. I see the world in so may forms on so many sheets of flattened wood that they call paper (well he too has a story to tell, but that’s for some other time because as of now he is “digitally”busy from being written on to by my “digital”form). A life grows through me. Rivalries are born and i give birth to them, and then end them just like that, with a few unique movements. I am there in the proof of the first cry to the proof of the last breath and i smile and cry as much as the ones who use me then. I see smiles coming on the beholders face as he writes a passage of happiness and i know it when they are blue because sometimes my letter get blurred by a sudden drop of a salty liquid on them. I have seen love grow through my tips and seen them being shattered to bits from the same. I have written true stories that appear a fiction and fictions that actually are true. I have drawn pictures of maidens of dreams,to the maidens who made them dream, to crooks and criminals whom i helped to put behind bars.The most powerful symbol of this world of ours is also built by me-a signature. The signature that can give one the power to win on worlds and the same same signature that defines that one has lost it all, from their money, their home to their wives who even a day ago he loved with his might. Oh how have i seen and known the mortal being, how have i felt what they felt exactly the same and ten times more!! I have see them struggle ,when I found those fingers decked up tightly on my head, the tip stuck on the paper and not a sound was made, sorry, not a word was made. I have trembled with their fear as they wrote with me their last words while the rope hung behind them from the roof and perhaps that’s one of the moments i felt most helpless for not being able to speak my own. I lay their as a moment later i was covered by the shadow of his dangling feet. I have been broken in many forms , its their friustration that broke me. But the morose is not all that there is. As much as i have felt their nerves i have felt their hearts to.I have felt them write as if they were talking to someone about their feelings. I have seen them smile as they wrote letters of home coming and numerous other events like christmas, new year, hanukkah and many more. I have felt them sing as they wrote in rhyme and i have seen them blush as they drew her in words. I have had two hands on my tip sometimes, a big one over a little one, a hand so little that even i was bigger than the arm on whose tip it was, managing a difficult A B C as others looked on. I have witnessed that hand transit from a little soft ball of tissue writing its letters, to a playful hand doing its homework, to a matured one writing to his “her” for the first time, to a dutiful one writing his thesis, to a weak and skinny one writing his will. I have seen and been through everything and everywhere.

I have given this world a way into their own world and a way to build one of their own outside their own.I help this world decide whats right and whats wrong, i help it decide what should be and what should be not, i am the creator of the creator and i am the sheild of their glory. And yes i am mightier than the sword!! I do not fight i write and a scar vanishes over time, but a word even though can be rubbed can never be deleted. For my “ink” might stay on paper but its born in the mind. I do wish sometimes that i could have spoken, but then again feel like its fine because if i would have , you would have been speechless (are you now? ), so its fine.

Savour me , enjoy me, write with me and never stop at the end of a refill, just get one and help me define you in every form of its meaning. I am tired now , so i would like my testimony to end like this

“remember remember the days of forever

the paintings, the poems ,the plot

and i will remember and shall forget never

all the words that you ever thought”

  And so i began, and thus i end.

“Signing” off

Yours faithfully

A pen

P.S. try to not chew my head when you are tensed or rotate me round the same, the spit makes me gooey and the turn makes me dizzy.!!