Paper this

Btw this is not really a story. There was no better choice in the type section so ummm lol. Anyway enjoy.

Paper becomes more than a medium; it is a mirror. Thin and fragile, yes, but capable of holding entire worlds�"love letters, sketches, poems, and rants. The weight of it is emotional. It takes on our sorrow and our joy, absorbing tears like a silent witness. Then why do people throw it away? A crumpled piece of paper being tossed away is like losing a piece of yourself. Fragile, broken and tossed aside. Rolling around on the ground until that strength sparks within… making a crumbled paper become uncrumpled. A process of falling and then being willing to smooth out all the rough edges into a pristine one. The Quotation: ‘smell this paper’ from the Braided Essay, by Brenda Miller highlights to me the romantic perspective paper has, as it was commonly used to write love letters, during the Renaissance period.

What is unknown to me is how people can throw paper away. Crunch it up. Make it into a ball, or make it look like a brain when scrunched up. The lines remind me of all the stress people unleash onto a piece of paper. Frustrated as they use their hands to grip the paper tight. A piece of paper that is highly useful. A piece of paper that can be made into so many things. You can paint on it, and see the water colours flowing through, see the blends and all the ways it can flood to the other side of the paper. You can use it to craft new things, make a model of something. A building or plane. To illustrate your feelings. To illustrate an image. To draw something which you find interesting. I can tell you, you can have even more fun, if you try to make the paper into a work of poetry.

Let me confess to one thing, I don’t know why people want to burn paper. The thought of paper as a tool of decay. It is so symbolic like the burning of ashes. Cremation. The scent of burning paper makes me feel nauseated. Sick. When paper is thrown away, when it's crumpled and tossed like a thought discarded, it speaks to the frustration of creation. It’s the in-between state: before beauty can emerge, failure must live, etched in the lines of a scrunched-up ball, waiting for release.

You may say that tissue is a type of paper, which I am curious about, as it came from trees, and you must dispose of it… since it would have your nosey germs in it. Blown and thrown. The word paper has multiple meanings and resonances, but to describe something as paper like you are assuming it is thin, flimsy, or frail, but deep down it is a material that can endure the pain of a broken heart, despite the tears and the water soaking within. Every sheet of paper, once a part of a tree, holds the weight of a life lived. Yet, our world treats it as disposable, even though it has endured centuries as a vessel for art, love, and protest. The earth cries out in each page wasted. Voiceless against the world of contaminated resources. How can we rebuild the destruction of paper? The destruction it represents�"history, memory, individuality and art.

Creativity can be used on paper, to express oneself. I personally would say to unleash creativity and explore the child-like nature within you. I may be old, but I am certainly one to draw things in a matter of bringing out my childish nature. I can say that it is an artistic habit of mine, I draw things like anime on paper. Traditionally, yes but not digitally. The reason is the personal joy of drawing on paper, that can show you just how much thought goes into the artwork. To see the natural process of erasers marks, rips, shadings, food stains and so much more. Essentially, my head is buried in the form of art. Deep down, art in a traditional sense leaves me to escape all the problems of over thinking. Things that eat my brain alive.

Destiny is a false belief; I chose paper as my topic. I chose what makes me feel comfortable. I know I am doing literature but not on paper, on a computer. You may ask why, that is because … I see technology to also use paper… digital paper. I am torn between digital paper and traditional paper. Paper is environmentally unsustainable. It ends up going to waste. We need to reuse paper instead of discarding it. I hate the fact that we do not save paper. A simple stain and it just doesn’t exist. I know I am repeating myself. The idea is highly one that would show the value paper has. I would store it. Save it. Think of it as a person’s body, that would one day melt onto one’s skin. To be buried in a grave with words wrapped around it. Rotting words.

Instead, do please see the ways paper can shape you into not only an environmental person, but one with romantic, artistic expression. One that would battle the death of paper. Make a statement.

A poetic statement. Poetry was in fact used in paper. A draft or not, it was the way each word was carefully written out. The way the poets used their ink and how their handwritten poems were translated. Visual and authentic. It was the feeling of receiving a poem on paper that felt meaningful, instead of a digital one. Outdated, am I? Well, poetry back then was romantic, maybe political, feminist and so much more. Different people expressing themselves. Whether individually, or for their community. I adore it! I wish to be honest; my generation used the traditional way of communicating and using poetry. No masks.

Reverse tactic, the destruction of paper. Okay, here I was praising the paper, but I may not have been honest. I used my laptop when I was writing about paper. That is because I am being environmentally friendly. I am not saying digital is bad… but the fact we are losing the authentic way of living life. I see myself like a crumpled piece of paper. Nothing makes sense. I can say I identify myself as a lost lamb in life. Paper was there when I was upset. Paper was there when I needed to vent. Paper was there when I wanted to draw. To paint. Paper always had me covered.

Someone told me to never step on paper, to never destroy something that is a piece of you, instead to end the cycle of death, and to let the piece of paper mold you… into something. Where paper would be stuck with you through your journey.

The experience of paper as a tool of healing from the deathly destruction of being confined in a metal prison is elevating. Refreshing. I hadn’t felt alive when my tears started to drop on the piece of crumpled paper. It was poetic… to see how even a drop of my tears can go through a thin piece of paper. So, thin it can cover my face, but not my body. Burning paper, with its ash spiraling into the sky, feels like a ritual, a death, but also a rebirth. Each page that goes up in flames is like a poem unspoken, words lost to the air. Yet, in this destruction, there is also a beauty�"a release. The paper dies, but the idea, the creation, lives on.

Paper is never just paper. It is love, loss, creation, and destruction. A simple sheet, crumpled or smooth, carries the weight of every thought that has ever lived on it. It has seen tears, carried words of passion, and borne the weight of rejection. As I write, both on screen and on paper, I know that these words, like paper, will endure, even as they disintegrate into memory and dust.