The Anecdote of the Pointless Existence of a Certain Crayola Crayon [Crayola Challenge]
Life hates me.
It absolutely hates me, and I remember every moment of my existence. “Inanimate” objects, as you people call us, have the best memories in the world.
I remember being melted and poured into a form. My “conception”, if you will.
I remember being clothed for the first, and last, time. I still have the same boring paper wrapper that I did twenty years ago.
I remember being tossed into a giant container full of other crayons the same color as me. It was amazing how well we all got along…
Then, like a cruel joke, I was shipped down into a smaller container full of differently colored crayons! Not a single one was like me! It was horrible! I was misunderstood, yelled at for being depressing, and, worst of all, I was called uncolorful.
Do you know what an insult that is to a crayon?! UNCOLORFUL !
Since that day, I’ve suffered the same abuse…
Worst of all, my existence is utterly pointless. Who uses me? No one! Why color with a crayon that doesn’t have a color?
Life hates white crayons…