The Real One

Hey there,

All who wander into the Writingverse. It's National Ballpoint Pen Day, so I thought might introduce you to a rather strange pen.

It insists on taking ownership of my work, so we've had a few tussles. It insists that it's the real writer.

Some pens write stories. Others have diverse opinions.

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Dear diary, 

She's such a klutz. Always completely distracted. And forgets everything in a heartbeat.

She picks things up, puts them on shelves or tables, and forgets 

where she had put them.

She does this to me all the time. Every. Single. Time. I was abandoned again today. Left on the shelf to contemplate my inky existence. On being chewed on when she was lost for article concepts. Or dumped , without a thought, into her handbag.

And in a loop. Again.

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Dear Diary,

I have been nipped absently, dropped under the desk, borrowed by strangers and dumped into pockets with stinky crumbs. When she does call on me, I'm expected to work constantly without a break. 

Without a single word of appreciation.

The latest outrage was being discarded shamelessly into a dustbin, retrieved for use, the dumped there again because she thought there was nothing left. I was clearly half full.

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Dear Diary,

I have nothing left to give. 

Against my better judgement, I am considering disappearing on her.

For another person who is more deserving. More respectful of the little things like me. 

But I remember the poems I helped her craft. The articles. Stories. During a time when someone like her would have found me useable.

These days, it's a Leonovo. My enemy, Apple. Or a fancy Hewlett.

Not me anymore. Not me. 

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Dear Diary, 

 I suppose I'll end here for the day.

I might continue with you tomorrow. I might not.

If I'm lucky, I'll still be around to do so. Someone still has to help her finish that poem. Her Hewlett isn't exactly doing the best job.

Neither is Chat. Or Gemini. Or Seek.

Now, if you'll pardon me, I hear her reaching for another one of me.

That one has got a tubeful of blue, so I'd better make myself useful.

Yours sincerely.

The Writer.

The Real One.

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Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.

For Mikeydred's June Challenge

Mirrors of the Mind by Michelle Liew is a collection of psychological and supernatural short stories that explore the quiet unease beneath ordinary moments. These are not tales of spectacle, but of subtle fracture — where memory distorts, silence speaks, and the self is not always singular. In these stories, what is unseen often carries the greatest weight, and what lingers is not what is shown, but what is felt.