I feel used. What is my purpose in life other then to be used by others. I am a tool, nothing but something that benefits others, oh misery. My brother was chewed to death by a hairless ape, what fate will befall me. At night they come with their noisy machines and make me sharp again, it hurts but it keeps me alive, so I can be used another day. but without that machine I am pointless and if I am pointless then I am useless.I desire the touch of paper, it is relaxing for me. How long do I have left? How long until I feel the emptiness that is death? When I started off the days are long but now they are getting shorter I hear the etching away of life each day. Is this no better then being left in the dark dank desk with my friends, destined to die of boredom. But I cannot give up, if I fail the apes then I will be snapped but maybe that is better than tasting the bite of death around me and scratching away slowly. I'm getting shorter, what is the point to life, I feel used.
your puns and stories are amazing. keep up the good work.
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