Waste of a Good Pen

Every morning, as I grab my trusty pen from the desk drawer and head out for work, there's this nagging feeling that's been building up inside me. It's not so much about losing a pen, it happens, everyone loses things. But lately, I've noticed myself being particularly careless with good pens. That sleek black one my sister got me on my birthday? Left it in the office canteen last week without even thinking twice about it. And now, today, I caught sight of this fine fountain pen that’s been in my desk drawer for months, you know, the one with the silver clip and blue ink, a real workhorse of a writing instrument. As soon as I got home from work, I had this strange urge to use it for something trivial, like scribbling down random thoughts or doodling on an old receipt just lying around in my bag. The irony is that I do love these pens; they make the act of writing feel more deliberate and thoughtful than any cheap plastic pen ever could. Yet, despite knowing how much better a fountain pen feels against paper compared to anything else, I still can’t shake this habit of treating them like disposables. It’s frustrating, honestly, because it doesn't feel right wasting such fine instruments on petty things. It's as if my appreciation for the craftsmanship goes only so far before practicality takes over, leaving me with a sense of guilt that’s hard to dismiss. I suppose it comes down to the realization that sometimes our best intentions and actual behavior can be miles apart. Maybe next time, instead of reaching for these quality pens just because they're there, I should consider what exactly needs writing, or if it even matters at all.