autobiography of a pencil
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My name is Pencil and please don’t ask me my initial. I am not grand. I am quite ordinary. Perhaps I won’t give darker or lighter shades. I don’t have an attractive body. But you wonder why I am writing my autobiography. I too have asked this question to myself and finally when I got the answer, I started writing it.
Everyone and everything is special and when I thought hard, I found that my life can teach something to the people. Let’s take a peek into my life.
When my lead is blunt, people sharpen me and it is painful for me. I get scared when the sharpener gets close to me. But I gather courage and see the positive side of it. I am sharpened for clear writing. So difficulties in life make us a better person.
I can’t bear naughty Ravi. I must have committed some sin to have got him as my owner. Every day, for some reason, he would drop me on the floor and I would have to be sharpened. If this case had persisted, I would have bade goodbye to this world soon. Ravi’s friend would keep me somewhere and forget where he had kept me. After some time, some nice children would pick me up and keep me on the teacher’s table.
Everyone and everything is special and when I thought hard, I found that my life can teach something to the people. Let’s take a peek into my life.
When my lead is blunt, people sharpen me and it is painful for me. I get scared when the sharpener gets close to me. But I gather courage and see the positive side of it. I am sharpened for clear writing. So difficulties in life make us a better person.
I can’t bear naughty Ravi. I must have committed some sin to have got him as my owner. Every day, for some reason, he would drop me on the floor and I would have to be sharpened. If this case had persisted, I would have bade goodbye to this world soon. Ravi’s friend would keep me somewhere and forget where he had kept me. After some time, some nice children would pick me up and keep me on the teacher’s table.
Answered by
5
Answer:
Hey mate here is your autobiography
Explanation:
I’m a pencil. I was born in a big factory. I have names like Atlas, Mango and Nataraj. I’m made of wood and graphite. I’m thin and long. They wrap my body in coloured paper. After that they pack me into a lorry, and the driver takes me to many book shops. I met many friends like rulers, erasers, pens and colour pencils.
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