Selfish, Sweaty Human

Why are you squeezing me so hard?! You always squeeze me too hard. And you swizz me around too fast, sloshing my insides all over the place until I am positively ill with it. And then when I can't do anymore, you shake me up and down until I am vomiting blue spots everywhere. Yet, you have the audacity to blame ME!

You really are rude and inconsiderate. I do everything for you. I make sure all of your important forms are filled out. It isn't my fault that YOU are always late with them, or forget to use black ink - another stupid human rule if you ask me (not that you ever do). I help you keep in touch with your friends, although why you choose to use that devil machine more than me is baffling. It's much too quick. Where has the anticipation gone?

But most of all, I give you an outlet, a connection between what is in your heart and the blank page in front of you. But what thanks do I get? Your odious saliva all over my cap end. And that's if I'm lucky. If I'm really unlucky, you give it a good chew. A chew?! The humiliation. And, I won't go into the sweat. I just can't with you anymore.

I suppose I should look forward to the end. The blissful silence of the waste bin when I can no longer muster up any good ink. Of course, you won't think twice about me before opening something shiny and new. Don't think I don't know what you are. You, mine enemy and only friend, are a stationary whore. Yours is the only touch I have ever known yet your head is turned by every fine-liner and calligraphy set with a markdown sticker on it.

That book you have had me slave over? May it never sell a single copy.