Imperfect Paper, 03/02/1999

A dot on an otherwise blank sheet of paper was trying to communicate with the
world. It repeatedly cried "Hello!", but the reply was always silence. How 
awful to be a small black smudge in the midst of purity and for one's 
highlight of life to be disturbing others by mere existence alone. To only 
destroy the beauty a paper was created for. To be no more than a minor
imperfection. 
  Yet that imperfection strived to be recognized. That it could evolve beyond 
the task it now endured into something grand and valuable. That it could laugh 
by the side of the universe. That its brilliance might be looked upon with 
amazement and wonder. 
  However, all it could do was shout and hope that some day someone would 
empty the paper basket and notice a special dot on an otherwise perfect piece 
of paper.