On a long and winding road to nowhere. Where shall i go? What shall i do? When life throws you different paths, choose the one that seems best fit for yourself. Pack your things and fly onward to your new life.
backpack. I don’t really have one. it’s more of a bag. I never had a locker so I carry it around with me all day. You used to carry it for me. And chase the boys around when they stole it. You used to hide secret notes in it for me to find. But I think that maybe it embarrassed you that I carried it around. I was different. I’m sorry I wasn’t perfect for you. sorry I was different
it can be filled with many things. books, folders, and journals that have your life story in them. As well as the pens you have written you life with. It will always belong to you. Never lose it.
She grabbed her orange backpack and ran down the stairs two at a time, tasting the rough road she knew lay ahead. It was an adventure of hands and heart; this journey would test her ability to tap into inner resources she had only ever seen in other people.
The night was cold and pricked with silver stars and as she slipped away down the path following the flirtatious moonlight she knew she was bound for somewhere warm and unfamiliar.
A backpack holds everything you can think of. It’s the carrier of life, dreams, goals, and even the carrier of your stepping stones. In my case, my backpack is my stepping stones. In it I carry knowledge, I carry ideas, homework, and my future. It’s rounded goodness is filled until the stitches pull to its limit with knowledge. It symbolizes my brain, eager to learn and filled each and every day to its capacity. My backpack is the representation of me.
busted flat in Baton Rouge, that was my vision of myself at twenty and a woman called Ritva who was forty was drinking a Fix beer in the L’arc en Ciel bar in Ierapetra, still backpacking and I thought that’s what I’ll want when I’m that old, well it was for while and it will be again, but it isn’t always, but yes, soon I’ll be backpacking in Vietnam, a woman alone above the paddy fields, heading for the coast and the wide, world-embracing ocean, in a big rice basket hat
I want to go far from here, far from where I was born. There’s a new beginning for me out there, somewhere where no one knows me, and my past doesn’t define who I am. I want to find those shores for myself, with nothing burdening me but a backpack with the essentials for life.
One zipper after another. That’s how we’ll do this.
Go.
Go.
Go.
Hurry.
Fuck.
Where is it?
I began to panic. There were only so many pockets in my backpack, but none seemed to hold what I desperately needed. What he needed.
But just keep looking.
You have to.
It was idiotic and painful having to carry the weight of my past life on my shoulders. What was the point? All of my worldly possessions were right behind me, yet I felt no comfort in that knowledge. Where was I going?
I cut every label off of mine. Just a simple black bag to carry my things as I desire. No credit for the company, no advertising towards others. A simple black bag that always feels heavier than it should. As if this weight will pull me back and down and down into a rabbit hole of no such rabbit. At which point, I’m simply falling down a hole of things, conversations, notes, books, and other things. That need not be so heavy, despite my choice to fill this black bag every day and carry it all around with me. As even when it’s off, I feel its weight on my shoulders, stopping me from sleeping. Stopping me from slowing down. And stopping me breathing deep. And as I take out another book from its massive depths I think “maybe this one will change things” and I’m always unexpectedly right. In ways I never imagined.
I have a packpack and it’s olive green. Most people say that it looks like I’m going hiking, but I honestly love it. I think it kind of describes me because I always want to be on the go like I always am in the mood for adventure. It’s funny how something so simple can actually mean something so big.
Backpacks are an essential tool to a teenagers life. they carry our whole world inside one little package. Phones, ipods, books, pictures, locker combinations, everything we could ever need. upon losing such an item we may go insane trying to get it back. Destroying anything in our path just to get it back no matter what we need to do, we WILL get that backpack. Of course, many kids nowadays dont even put anything in their backpacks anymore.
My backpack always follows a continuous pendulum from disaster to awesome. In disaster stages it includes cards with no container, chapstick, post-it notes, several crumpled papers, possible unidentified cords, but usually not a single pencil when you need or, or if it’s a pen you need, then only pencils.
I needed a backpack for the exciting trip i had ahead of me, well i was going to be hiking in one of the most dangerous rain forests of the world so i probably needed one that would keep in everything i needed. I hit the downtown mall in search of my backpack
I had a backpack filled with oranges as I walked through the meadow lit by candy cane lamp posts. As I straddled my pony to the back of my reflection, I soon discovered the cradle would be neutralized.
I’ve packed it all – all that I need in my backpack, like the tortoise, I decided to be slow but complete – a world unto myself. My backpack’s empty, pretty much… love is light, the soul is subtle, the heart is a beating redness of delight that won’t be put away. My backpack is empty, I travel light. Come, fill me!
Usually I dream of hiking some lonely outcrop, avoiding the bicycles that float past. My backpack always gets heavier the nearer I reach home— which of course is never where it should be. What do you think this is telling me ?
I carried the coolest backpack as a kid. It was Lisa Frank, and it was glittery. I collected keychains from every road trip my family took, and you could hear me coming from a mile away. They jingled more than Santa’s sleigh. I stopped carrying a backpack in high school, because I was sadly mistaken in thinking I was “too cool.” In college, I realized, it’s awesome to be a kid. I carry my backpack once again.
Sometimes I want to fill my backpack and just leave. But then I wonder what these people would do with out me to be the buffer, the go-between. I just wish my backpack could fit all of my beloved things and my favorite people so that I could take them with me wherever I went.
I have had my current backpack since the beginning of high school. It is a black North Face. Although I have been very pleased with the quality of the backpack, I bought it mostly because everyone at my school had them and I would have been embarrassed to have had a Jansport. I used to have a jean and floral print backpack and I miss it now. Those are my only two memorable backpacks because the ones I had in between were low quality and always broke because I carry so many books in them. I am a pretty big nerd, so I really do use and love my backpacks. They get a lot of food in them because I always have granola bars.
I wish I could just pack a backpack and leave everything in this godforsaken town behind. All of the drama, all of the people, all of the wasted feelings. Everything in it’s entirety. I’m so tired of the norm. I need something that this place can’t offer. and It never will be able to provide me with, and that’s a place I can call my home.
She swings her backpack over her frozen shoulder. How long has she been in that cold alleyway? She hears footsteps. Quickening her pace, she darts across the cold pavement, searching for an exit to safety.
it is a things that holds all the things that I need for the day when i leave to go somewhere important, it is my life in a nutshell a piece of my history and my home. It is what is and isn’t.
I was traveling with my backpack one day when all of a sudden a troll came along and stopped me in the middle of the road. The troll was jealous of my backpack and wanted to see my belongings inside. Slowly, I emptied out my backpack and handed him each object inside one by one…until I came across an object I thought I had long lost. It was the necklace she gave me.
Peters View Canyon lay open like a gaping jaw as I hoisted the burden onto my shoulders. A burden of scattered trail mix and bottled water. One hand held the strap. The other held your free hand.
Walking, stomping, scuttling. A fat black beetle wavered in the corner of my eye. It had to be bigger than my thumb.
i wear a backpack sometimes when im not using my purse. my backpack looks like buzz lightyears space ship its freaking awesome. i love to write about it because its blue and has wings even. i wish i were buzz and could fly. i love flying. more than anything. the end of my story has arrived
I did live out of one for quite a while. It simplified life, but furthered my terrible fashion taste. Three years later and I’m still trying learn how to dress myself.
Shelby tugged her cow backpack along, unaware that her mother had gone farther ahead on the sidewalk. She stopped to poke at a dandelion, its petals a brilliant yellow amidst all the grey that filled the world around her. The cow backpack, which had been a gift from her grandfather, dragged on the wet sidewalk next to her. Its stuffed face was filled with dirty water and gravel.
zippers still work, surprising. Al the things I’ve spilled in it, like that time in the airport on the way to Alaska, when my full bottle of sea spray smellingtasting mouth wash exploded all over it and I was afraid bears would find and eat me in my tent because of the smell.
on my back to school. i see kevin durant wear it all the time. great place to store stuff. i have two; one is black and one is blue. It is a great accessory everyone should have. They are very handy. I want a new north face backpack. they come in a lot of different colors. they are at a lot of malls. i put my basketball sneakers in their when i go to the gym.
Pack a backpack, back a packback, don’t be slow we’ve got to go. Type a rhyme, type a riddle, do it fast, dont dede diddle. When you stutter it, no one shutters it.
When I was younger, I had a backpack that I thought was pretty neat. It featured all of my favorite pokemon. Looking back, this seems to be something typical for a young child. I don’t understand why the fad for cartoon backpacks came back in high school.
On my shoulders is a heavy weight, including an oversized onion with layers of flavour to be cooked deep into the sauciest curry at the end of really sore toes and ankles. Flavours countering pain.
On a long and winding road to nowhere. Where shall i go? What shall i do? When life throws you different paths, choose the one that seems best fit for yourself. Pack your things and fly onward to your new life.
backpack. I don’t really have one. it’s more of a bag. I never had a locker so I carry it around with me all day. You used to carry it for me. And chase the boys around when they stole it. You used to hide secret notes in it for me to find. But I think that maybe it embarrassed you that I carried it around. I was different. I’m sorry I wasn’t perfect for you. sorry I was different
it can be filled with many things. books, folders, and journals that have your life story in them. As well as the pens you have written you life with. It will always belong to you. Never lose it.
She grabbed her orange backpack and ran down the stairs two at a time, tasting the rough road she knew lay ahead. It was an adventure of hands and heart; this journey would test her ability to tap into inner resources she had only ever seen in other people.
The night was cold and pricked with silver stars and as she slipped away down the path following the flirtatious moonlight she knew she was bound for somewhere warm and unfamiliar.
A backpack holds everything you can think of. It’s the carrier of life, dreams, goals, and even the carrier of your stepping stones. In my case, my backpack is my stepping stones. In it I carry knowledge, I carry ideas, homework, and my future. It’s rounded goodness is filled until the stitches pull to its limit with knowledge. It symbolizes my brain, eager to learn and filled each and every day to its capacity. My backpack is the representation of me.
busted flat in Baton Rouge, that was my vision of myself at twenty and a woman called Ritva who was forty was drinking a Fix beer in the L’arc en Ciel bar in Ierapetra, still backpacking and I thought that’s what I’ll want when I’m that old, well it was for while and it will be again, but it isn’t always, but yes, soon I’ll be backpacking in Vietnam, a woman alone above the paddy fields, heading for the coast and the wide, world-embracing ocean, in a big rice basket hat
I want to go far from here, far from where I was born. There’s a new beginning for me out there, somewhere where no one knows me, and my past doesn’t define who I am. I want to find those shores for myself, with nothing burdening me but a backpack with the essentials for life.
One zipper after another. That’s how we’ll do this.
Go.
Go.
Go.
Hurry.
Fuck.
Where is it?
I began to panic. There were only so many pockets in my backpack, but none seemed to hold what I desperately needed. What he needed.
But just keep looking.
You have to.
My backpack has in itself the secrets of the universe.
Black, subtle, familiar.
Just there,
For you and me to see.
strolling along a dusty nowhere road.I feel my load heavy and reluctant.there there is no pathway
Secret notes
Secret letters
Hidden away
In my backpack
For my eyes only
So KEEP OUT.
My secrets are hidden
In my backpack
And this poem is complete crap. :)
It was idiotic and painful having to carry the weight of my past life on my shoulders. What was the point? All of my worldly possessions were right behind me, yet I felt no comfort in that knowledge. Where was I going?
I cut every label off of mine. Just a simple black bag to carry my things as I desire. No credit for the company, no advertising towards others. A simple black bag that always feels heavier than it should. As if this weight will pull me back and down and down into a rabbit hole of no such rabbit. At which point, I’m simply falling down a hole of things, conversations, notes, books, and other things. That need not be so heavy, despite my choice to fill this black bag every day and carry it all around with me. As even when it’s off, I feel its weight on my shoulders, stopping me from sleeping. Stopping me from slowing down. And stopping me breathing deep. And as I take out another book from its massive depths I think “maybe this one will change things” and I’m always unexpectedly right. In ways I never imagined.
I have a packpack and it’s olive green. Most people say that it looks like I’m going hiking, but I honestly love it. I think it kind of describes me because I always want to be on the go like I always am in the mood for adventure. It’s funny how something so simple can actually mean something so big.
Backpacks are an essential tool to a teenagers life. they carry our whole world inside one little package. Phones, ipods, books, pictures, locker combinations, everything we could ever need. upon losing such an item we may go insane trying to get it back. Destroying anything in our path just to get it back no matter what we need to do, we WILL get that backpack. Of course, many kids nowadays dont even put anything in their backpacks anymore.
back pain, stuff, heavy, trip, massage, mountains, sea side , balck, small, confy, clean, full, clock
My backpack always follows a continuous pendulum from disaster to awesome. In disaster stages it includes cards with no container, chapstick, post-it notes, several crumpled papers, possible unidentified cords, but usually not a single pencil when you need or, or if it’s a pen you need, then only pencils.
I needed a backpack for the exciting trip i had ahead of me, well i was going to be hiking in one of the most dangerous rain forests of the world so i probably needed one that would keep in everything i needed. I hit the downtown mall in search of my backpack
I had a backpack filled with oranges as I walked through the meadow lit by candy cane lamp posts. As I straddled my pony to the back of my reflection, I soon discovered the cradle would be neutralized.
I’ve packed it all – all that I need in my backpack, like the tortoise, I decided to be slow but complete – a world unto myself. My backpack’s empty, pretty much… love is light, the soul is subtle, the heart is a beating redness of delight that won’t be put away. My backpack is empty, I travel light. Come, fill me!
Usually I dream of hiking some lonely outcrop, avoiding the bicycles that float past. My backpack always gets heavier the nearer I reach home— which of course is never where it should be. What do you think this is telling me ?
I carried the coolest backpack as a kid. It was Lisa Frank, and it was glittery. I collected keychains from every road trip my family took, and you could hear me coming from a mile away. They jingled more than Santa’s sleigh. I stopped carrying a backpack in high school, because I was sadly mistaken in thinking I was “too cool.” In college, I realized, it’s awesome to be a kid. I carry my backpack once again.
Sometimes I want to fill my backpack and just leave. But then I wonder what these people would do with out me to be the buffer, the go-between. I just wish my backpack could fit all of my beloved things and my favorite people so that I could take them with me wherever I went.
I have had my current backpack since the beginning of high school. It is a black North Face. Although I have been very pleased with the quality of the backpack, I bought it mostly because everyone at my school had them and I would have been embarrassed to have had a Jansport. I used to have a jean and floral print backpack and I miss it now. Those are my only two memorable backpacks because the ones I had in between were low quality and always broke because I carry so many books in them. I am a pretty big nerd, so I really do use and love my backpacks. They get a lot of food in them because I always have granola bars.
I have a backpack, it goes everywhere with me,
It carries my life, the safety, my everything,
Without my backpack just where would be?
I love my backpack,
It makes me feel so free,
I put important things in it,
and travel like a bee.
I wish I could just pack a backpack and leave everything in this godforsaken town behind. All of the drama, all of the people, all of the wasted feelings. Everything in it’s entirety. I’m so tired of the norm. I need something that this place can’t offer. and It never will be able to provide me with, and that’s a place I can call my home.
She swings her backpack over her frozen shoulder. How long has she been in that cold alleyway? She hears footsteps. Quickening her pace, she darts across the cold pavement, searching for an exit to safety.
it is a things that holds all the things that I need for the day when i leave to go somewhere important, it is my life in a nutshell a piece of my history and my home. It is what is and isn’t.
I was traveling with my backpack one day when all of a sudden a troll came along and stopped me in the middle of the road. The troll was jealous of my backpack and wanted to see my belongings inside. Slowly, I emptied out my backpack and handed him each object inside one by one…until I came across an object I thought I had long lost. It was the necklace she gave me.
Peters View Canyon lay open like a gaping jaw as I hoisted the burden onto my shoulders. A burden of scattered trail mix and bottled water. One hand held the strap. The other held your free hand.
Walking, stomping, scuttling. A fat black beetle wavered in the corner of my eye. It had to be bigger than my thumb.
It was beautiful by the lake.
i wear a backpack sometimes when im not using my purse. my backpack looks like buzz lightyears space ship its freaking awesome. i love to write about it because its blue and has wings even. i wish i were buzz and could fly. i love flying. more than anything. the end of my story has arrived
I did live out of one for quite a while. It simplified life, but furthered my terrible fashion taste. Three years later and I’m still trying learn how to dress myself.
Shelby tugged her cow backpack along, unaware that her mother had gone farther ahead on the sidewalk. She stopped to poke at a dandelion, its petals a brilliant yellow amidst all the grey that filled the world around her. The cow backpack, which had been a gift from her grandfather, dragged on the wet sidewalk next to her. Its stuffed face was filled with dirty water and gravel.
Backpack……..
It’s 2:18 AM, shouldn’t I have a new word?
zippers still work, surprising. Al the things I’ve spilled in it, like that time in the airport on the way to Alaska, when my full bottle of sea spray smellingtasting mouth wash exploded all over it and I was afraid bears would find and eat me in my tent because of the smell.
on my back to school. i see kevin durant wear it all the time. great place to store stuff. i have two; one is black and one is blue. It is a great accessory everyone should have. They are very handy. I want a new north face backpack. they come in a lot of different colors. they are at a lot of malls. i put my basketball sneakers in their when i go to the gym.
I fit most of the contents of the Chinese buffet in my backpack. Quite a value for $8.99.
Pack a backpack, back a packback, don’t be slow we’ve got to go. Type a rhyme, type a riddle, do it fast, dont dede diddle. When you stutter it, no one shutters it.
When I was younger, I had a backpack that I thought was pretty neat. It featured all of my favorite pokemon. Looking back, this seems to be something typical for a young child. I don’t understand why the fad for cartoon backpacks came back in high school.
On my shoulders is a heavy weight, including an oversized onion with layers of flavour to be cooked deep into the sauciest curry at the end of really sore toes and ankles. Flavours countering pain.