Dear Paper,

I have never expressed my love for all the things that make you different – that make you shine on a pedestal and make me want to sing Gavin DeGraw songs to you in the middle of a small-town BBQ. The amount of gratitude I have for your very existence cannot fit between the covers of a book.

You have given me so much of yourself that it is baffling how there is still anything left of you. I think the greatest thing you do for me is tell me what I’m afraid to tell myself even if you’re just repeating the words in my head in a different form. And when I forget or doubt all that I have told you or etched into your very fibers, you are instantly there to remind me. You allow me to soak in my memories and float away on a lily notepad of neglected ideas. Even your blank stare is not daunting or intimidating, all I have to do is start over. I have yelled at you, cried on you, and torn you to pieces. I’ve even sliced you with a box-cutter and thrown you away. You have been here to show me one basic truth: all things are possible.

You have become a recycled resource – a quality that is delicious in that your texture has a history that only my fingertips know. Pixels and light, it’s just not the same. I like the way you feel when I touch you, and your smell is…sometimes I smell you in the wind and in that moment, if I close my eyes, I can still smell you on my skin.

You are a fundamental part of every piece of art and beauty. Everything that has been constructed, made, or invented by me has begun with you. You are quiet and humble. You do not hum, click, or buzz. You do not need protection or updates installed. You are ever-lasting and timeless. You could survive a tsunami or an iceberg. Your only enemy is fire and it is only natural that you are not invincible but it is poetic that the only thing that can destroy you is something that burns. You disintegrate into ash and join the earth again.

Everyone around me seems to be aiming for the next digital explosive discovery. Not you. You are a dying breed. I see less and less of you and that is not entirely your fault – I’ve made decisions that left you up on a shelf waiting for me to remember you’re still there in the shadows.

All I ask is this: when you are there in the darkness, please know that I cherish every inch of you.

Designer