A day is alike a piece of paper. No, not those fancy ones with glittery sides or fancy detailing but rather a simple parchment from any blue-lined notebook.
As morning starts, the piece of paper is white and clean. You straighten out any bends at its sides and brush aside any debris on it. It's new, simple..non-complicated, full of hope.
As the day goes forward, you note down simple details all in while preserving the paper's almost perfect look. Each note is written neatly, numbered accordingly. Once done, you stand back and admire the effort put into detailing. You feel safe, secure..stable, like the world is yours for the taking.
The evening brings with it changes and suddenly the notes made seem irrelevant,plans and aspirations made seem unachievable. Little crosses and scribbles are made. A splash of red and blue ink spreads all over the once pure parchment.
You cancel out prior details made and add on new detail after detail. No longer does the paper look neat and tidy, white and new. Pen marks are clearly visible, messy handwriting and doodles start to appear.
The paper now looks bent and the white spaces are barely apparent to the now ink-filled paper. It holds no structure, no order. Now the crippled document holds no purpose but rather is filled with confusion and complication. It finds no need, nothing to look forward to..nothing to hope for...
As the day dies, so does the silly blue-lined parchment as it finds rest, crumpled and torn in the dustbin; never to be used again.
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