CrAEoNs

I was given a 12 pack of crayons when I started kindergarten.
That year I lost my first crayon when chase and his lackeys made fun of me for wearing my favorite shoes.
My yu-gi-oh shoes.
The light up ones.
They stole that crayon and put it in their own pack because they didn't feel like their crayons were good enough.
In first grade I had to throw one of my crayons away because my girlfriend used it after she picked her nose in front of me.
AND ATE IT.
In second grade I lost one more crayon when I got in trouble for acting too childish.
Third grade claimed another crayon when I had to share a birthday with Anne, my nemesis.
She borrowed it and never gave it back.
Fourth grade followed that, claiming another crayon when I found out santa wasn't real.
I burned a whole crayon writing a note to a man who doesn't exist.
Fifth grade was rough, popular kids started emerging from the woodwork.
One of them pulled my pants down and made fun of my underwear because it had trucks on it.
He took that crayon and smashed it under his pokemon snow boots.
Sixth grade wasn't very much better, we moved 800 miles away and I had to make all new friends.
But eventually I did, and finally I got settled in to this new place.
I forgot one of my crayons in class one day, my 3rd favorite one too.
Seventh grade we moved right back to the same place we left.
I was packing like 30 pounds of babyfat and didn't know how to dress myself.
I left a crayon in my favorite pair of basketball shorts that went through the wash.
Eighth grade took another crayon when I wore another pair of shoes nobody liked.
Everyone that saw called me gay, then one day one of those kids pushed me over and stole a crayon.
Ninth grade was good to me, so good that it let me keep all the crayons I had.
Tenth grade was cool I guess, but I burned through a whole crayon taking notes in all my hard classes.
2 left.
Eleventh grade I let the girl I liked borrow her favorite color.
Then we kissed and she stopped talking to me.
I thought it was best if she just kept it.
Now I'm here, twelfth grade with one crayon left.
One crayon.
So much more life to live.
But once I graduate I get a lifetime supply of generic black pens.
Black pens to illustrate the rest of my life.
I think I'll hold onto this last crayon and save it for when I know I really need it.