My Conversation with a Piece of Paper

It stares blankly back at me in the full glory of it's blankness. Awaiting in it's void the manifestations of my mind. Be it a retrospective entourage of words or an illustration of revelation and even meaningless doodles - it lays in front of me faithfully, awaiting to feel used. I speak to it, asking, "why do you want to be robbed of your cleanliness? To be vandalized upon, dirtied and marred. Though at times you turn out more beautified than ever, but many a times, you get thoroughly crushed upon and disposed. Why is it so that you still would want to stay by me?"

It replies, "as long as I have worth, a purpose in creation and have come from a source - I shall live to my fullest. I may turn into a masterpiece, or a piece of thrash, I do not mind. Because at least then, I have had my purpose accomplished. That is, I believe, the meaning of existence."

Continuing, it says "I believe I am a metaphor of many people. Sacrifices, risk and loss - these come hand-in-hand along with growth and success. For the creation of my kind, countless trees have been cut down. People understands that we are facing the risk of global warming, yet because humanity understands the need for my kind, they have sacrificed them so as to be able to achieve greater things. Humans too, are a product of much sacrifice from their parental bodies, therefore I would choose to be that no existence possess no worth."

I stare at it in deep contemplation. Why then, have many been labeled unneeded and worthless? Unproductive humans and failures in life - how much of a worth could they be? I inquired.

"I am a piece of paper. Because I am abundant, sometimes, I may be rendered worthless. But at the same time, people realize that they cannot survive without me. The world works about in paradoxes. For winners to exist, there must be losers and for greatness to shine, there needs to be failure. Paper is made from wood pulp and everyday, what seemingly is worthless and of no value are made to carry gargantuan amount of information people render valuable. What is worth? What is purpose? They are the ability to be of usefulness, in my opinion. And usefulness is the faith one has in himself to be productive, not the determining of aptitude by people imposed on a certain individual. We all come from the same source and that no man is made worthless."

"Then what if you turn out to be thrash? Won't you become worthless?"

"Well, my kind has been crushed and disposed as thrash. People might render them useless, but in my opinion, they're actually served greater purposes than many masterpieces. Because before those master pieces were produced on fresh sheets of paper, these are actually the pieces of paper that fed and fueled the producer of the masterpieces. They are the paper which was planned upon, the pieces of paper that are drafted and brainstormed upon. In my opinion, they are the true great ones because if not for them, the masterpieces would ceased to exist. People die and people live. And with death, the lives of the people changes."

I stared back at the piece of paper once again, inspired by the seemingly worthless piece of object which at the same time was a seed of a possible greatness. With a smile I've long hidden deep inside, I began my strokes of English literature on it's voidness. Perhaps, this is how God had decided to create the world. After all, it was how we all started, with a word and on came light in the midst of darkness. In the first chapter of the gospel alone, it has already been displayed the foundation of all logic on earth - for light to exist, there must be darkness. For everything that existed, there must be a reason, that is why we exist.

And this is how this piece of article came into your sight, for this to be written, I've gone through tribulations and trials. And so, in reminder, I would like to tell you, friend - you are worthy.


Sorry for this random post, I was just listening to the soundtrack of Les Miserables and reading certain articles and felt inspired to write. And at that moment, that blank piece of paper on my desk fell off and I went to pick it up and thought of my past. Because back when I was a child, I would cry with delight when I found paper. I loved expressing myself through art and drawing, hence paper was a luxury compared to some other candy treats. Then I realized how it is seemingly very worthless to me now, compared to the past when it was valuable. And thus came forth this piece of literature. Now I'd hope they give a one-word topic entitled "paper" for my English "O" levels. Alright, I supposed I might start attempting on one-word essays. I've learned to control my writing, finally! Perhaps I might at last be able to catch up on my English language. I've been too complacent.