A new piece of paper always has a certain beauty to it. As if you're starting new, you could turn this piece of paper into anything you want. You can draw, your passion, or you can doodle for small pleasure. Expressing yourself with art, showing people your emotions because you don't have a way with words. Or maybe you can't seem to draw, but you are good with words. Speaking eloquently in beautiful rhetoric, stirring up beautiful imagery in those who read. That could also be you, the reader who prefers to sit back and observe. Then again, maybe you're someone that uses the paper for schedules and important dates, needing everything to be neat and organized. Maybe you use your page to experiment, write to relatives and friends, do homework or write music. You paint your hand and press it on the paper, needing to leave your mark wherever you go. Or you don't have your handprint on your paper, but many little ones from your children that are determined to leave their marks on you. Maybe you shove all your feelings down on this blank page, burying them deep down, scared that you will get hurt. Suddenly, this covered page doesn't seem so clean and bright. Your page has become dark and filthy and dejected. Or maybe yours isn't, but you find someone else's that is. You take that dark page and fill it with your light, making it bright and purposeful again. Your page could be full of photos, documenting memories you never want to forget. Or it could be full of many other things accompanying them, because life is a scrapbook full of many moments. In between your pictures are hastily written notes for school, or maybe you don't even have enough room for pictures, always having new ideas or inventions. Among all that you put on your page are sticky notes from your parents, full of notes and lessons, full of praise. A recipe from your grandma, a blessing from your grandpa. Your wedding vows from a few years ago, or fifty years ago. A letter to a dead loved one, a souvenir from an alive one. You will make mistakes and have to erase them, that leftover faint smear there never letting you forget that you messed up. Because, no matter who you are, you are destined to make mistakes. So you can cover that smear with something way better, or you can scribble it out and try again.There are numerous more possibilities that I can't even imagine, much less write down. It's empty when you begin, and full when you end. Yours to do whatever you want with. That is the beauty of life. Wait, you didn't think I was still talking about a piece of paper did you?