my last pencil

I use to treat love (females) like a supply of pencils I get in a box and I remember well getting my first chance to break the seal on my first box (virgin-hood). After opening it up and getting my first one out, I would use it to the best of my ability (experience building) , trying to take care of it (love relationship), but as some as the lead would break I would try to find something to get the point back, but not too pressed because I had lots more where that one came from (plenty fish in the sea attitude).

One after another, I would either whine up losing the next pencil or playing around with it by challenges in pencil fights (arguments) and not even caring about how I was using them or going right through them(female abuses). Then one day I notice my box was empty and I was down to my last pencil. Only then did I start to realize how important and valuable they were. Oh, I treated that last pencil extra good, I worried about losing it, bitching out on pencil fight challenges, I mean kept that pencil in fine shape, caring for it like it was the last one on earth.

When the lead would break, man I would get a knife, scissors edge, razor blade or rub in on the concrete. If the rubber on the head was wearing down until the metal piece would tear my paper while erasing, I would bite down on the tip until more erase would come out and if that didnt work, I'd start tearing the tin from around it until just enough was left to hold whatever was left for me to use it. But in time I knew that as hard as I tried, the pencil was coming to its end, no more erase, no more lead. Only until then did I think that I should had been taking care of all of them the way I treated my last one