*ABSURD LIL BABY ALERT*
I lose things very easily and frequently. In 2008 during my last semester in college, I made a deal with myself that I was going to carry one pen in the same pocket for the rest of forever. It was a personal test to prove to myself that I could care about something cheap and non-human enough to keep up with it. I used it every single day. Throughout four jobs, multiple cross-country road trips, a 6-month sabbatical in Europe, bike commuting, public transit commuting, sleepovers, etc, etc. It would fall out of my pocket often and my life would freeze until I found it again—sometimes while I was riding my bike on a busy street, in which case I would dismount, pick it up, put it in my pocket, and ride on.
The point is, I cared about this pen a lot more than a person cares about a pen (especially a pen that was free in the first place). I think I loved it. Actually, I know I loved it. It was my pen.
On Saturday August 11, 2012 my pen disappeared. The last place I saw it was on my table on Friday. I left the house without it that afternoon (highly unusual) on accident. I realized it halfway to the bus stop and almost returned inside to get it, but I didn't. The next morning it wasn't on the table. I tore my house apart looking for it, and I have resigned to the fact that it's gone. I don't know how, but it is.
I am sad. More sad than I should be about a pen.
Pay your respects in my Society6 shop.