I Am Tabula Rasa -ish

I am a blank paper. People talk and their words attach themselves onto my paper. Other people read my paper and think, "hey, i've read/heard that somewhere before". Then I (the blank paper filled with other people's words) could not defend myself despite my hands being ink-free. I cry/laugh at the death of originality. But Originality laughed louder than me, even in its grave. Because I'm still the blank paper filled with other people's words.