something that defines my day. i carry it all saround me at schoool, where I am most of the days, being a schoolgoer for 5 days a week. I prefer to have a nicer looking one, butdont; hae the money, and dont really care that much to be honest. Pretty neat stuff those backpacks.
Hmm. I haven’t owned a backpack in years. Although I think I have permanent back problems from when I used to use them. Things were so simpler in those days. Now I have so much more crap to carry around. I do remember one year, 2nd grade, my hello kitty backpack. Pink and furry. Good times.
Adjusting the backpack slung over his shoulder, Grant surveyed the landscape before him. Old and worn out, it was rugged, vicious, full of strange landscape formations and teeming with creatures that were no doubt as scared of him as he was of them — yet ready to strike at a moment’s notice. This would be an adventure, certainly; the first day of school usually was.
The backpack was just sitting there, resting from a day of stress and pain at high school. A reminder of the stress I have been through, the heartache of graduation and saying goodbye to lost friends and some of the best people I have ever met, and probably won’t see again for a long time. Now with my cap and gown on, I walk away from this time and shut the door, forever.
When I see backpack, these are the words that come to mind: carry, books, high school, drama, pain, spinal injury, wallet, makeup, computer, pencils, gum, zippers, compartments, stuffing, overfilled, papers, essays, notes, studying, finals, teachers.
Hiking over plains of wheat and hills full of life. Survival with all the simple things found in one’s pack. Exploration of the marvelous world around us.
I filled my backpack with everything I owned, which came to one book, a toothbrush, and a few shirts – it was a little pathetic, really – before setting out into the unknown of the metropolis. It was a jungle of cars and concrete. I’d hardly been beyond my front door. it was huge and unknown and terrifying, and I already loved it.
I carry a backpack. I’m a school teacher. Sometimes I get teased because it makes me look like a student. But I teach 4th grade. That makes me one gigantic, incredibly developed fourth grader. That is all.
Backpack across his lap, Michael began packing away his accumulated wealth. That is, of course, to say two changes of clothes, twenty-seven dollars and change, and a box of Uncrustables. He eyeballed his home of thirteen years for a final time, and hit the road.
for my birthday this year my parents got me a backpack. it is blue and has little anchors all over it. i like to remember that anchors keep me grounded, and who and what my anchors in life are. like my boyfriend. he keeps me right here on the ground, while my heads stuck in the stars somewhere, you know?
my backpack is so fucking heavy, but i guess its worth it and full of important shit. this reminds me of the last time we had a fire drill, and for some reason i was the only person outside who had their backpack, and i felt super lucky. if everyone else’s backpacks had burned in the fire, if there actually was one, and i had mine with me? pretty damn lucky if you ask me.
waking to class i always notice people looking at my backpack. is it because it is green, it is plaid? it is unusual? it is stuffed to the brim with my laptop, water bottle and snacks to last me all day
I wear a backpack to school. My backpack is blue and gray. It is full of books and my laptop. I like backpacks with lots of pockets. Sometimes I find random things in my backpack from long times before.
Once there was a backpack that was brown and pink and had little daisies printed on it. It belonged to a little girl who used it for school and carried her books and colored pencils in it. One day she was on the bus, wearing a cute pink dress and brown rubber boots. A boy was sitting in the seat behind her drinking chocolate milk and she thought it wise to inform him that drinking on the bus wasn’t allowed. He wasn’t to happy to hear her telling him what was and wasn’t allowed, so when the little girl turned back around he poured his milk into her cute little backpack!
Rugged, healthy, tanned models
In Eddie Bauer checked flannel shirts and cargo shorts
Backpacking around the newest model of SUV
Because that’s what you do when you own an SUV.
You are more than a suburbanite.
worrds are words that people think about and use to explain their ideas and thoughts from their brain and they use them to tell people thesesthoughts because they like them and they want to know. but words canj be helpful and harmful and helpful it depends on how you use the words theyre very imprtwnt
I’d like to take a backpack and fill it with all the things that are important to me and leave it by the front door just in case something bad happens at the house, in the world, etc…that way I have it all and can be on my way in a split second. Things I’d put in the backpack are pictures trinkets leashes for the dogs some water and a blank journal.
are very helpful. for the last few years, my life was contained in one of these. books, journals, directions and sometimes if i remembered, a protein bar. my life was being carried around in one of these and the fact that things are no longer like that, is kinda weird.
I pulled the strap of my backpack higher on my shoulder and the rough nylon dug into my clammy skin. I grimaced. The mob of people in front of me surged forward as the doors opened, a mass of colors and skin. Lots of skin. How I hated high school.
But I was back for my final year, and I followed the crowd of drones up the stone steps.
dinosaurs
vans
school
books
miley cyrus
bob marley
everythings gonna me okay
i love you
ms wade
math
graphics
ms mesina
lalala
shit
times running out!
ahaha
damn
backpack
how much time?
I used to carry a backpack to school. It was green and LL bean and said my initials on it. It would get extremely heavy of schoolbooks. I also use a backpack when i hike, i fill it with trailmis and a LOT of water and sometimes some other stuff.
My backpack is worn and tattered, filled with books, hard work, laziness, and memories of the best school year that has come yet.
It’s a plain backpack, with no embellishments on it, and no such writing that could distinguish it as mine, except for the torn cloth and the dust.
The year’s almost over, as will be the life of my backpack.
The backpack kept me straight. Like a person who has helped you through everything, but just like backpack, this person could bend your back forward. Until your back slumps and slumps until you can’t take it. you have to drop the backpack, yet there’s so much in there, your knowledge, your secrets, and everything, everyone expects you to carry whether or not you need it.
My backpack fell on the floor and I was too tired to pick it up…so I just stared at it. Pencils and stray paper were skewed across my carpet, looking for a place to belong.
That is backpack they say. That is what carries you around, keeps you lifted. That man, this god, is the savior among humanity. Simply unselfish, unreasonable and utterly overworked.
The crayons were dull as they pressed against the lined paper. School…this is school, I thought. It was less fun than I had imagined, watching my brother head off to 1st grade every day. I kept on thinking of how exited I was to go to the coat room and put on the purple backpack my mom had gotten me just for kindergarten.
The fact is that most backpacks are filled with tact and that’s a quite unfortunate fact. Most react and then retract, their hearts and minds cut short with tact. Just the facts, ma’am, just the facts. In the backpack.
im sitting here thinking about turning 17. time flys like the leaves outside , im getting old…….. college life ahead of me, no parents just me and my thoughts in a room shared by a person and my time is ……
i don’t have one. it hurts my back. uncomfortable. nerdy. too hard to lug around. only serves one purpose, while my one shoulder bag is also fit to be a purse/bag, and for over-nights, it’s a lot prettier. back packs look like your going to go sky diving or ready to travel the world.
I’ve always wanted to travel the world, but I’d be too scared. being alone, being in a world foreign to my own, i don’t think i could do it.
One time (well, actually it was my sophomore year of high school) I had a Disney princess backpack. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Disney, but the main reason I had was for the
shock factor.
But nobody laughed; everyone just thought it was cool.
Turns out I was a stereotypical hipster- even at the ripe young age of 15.
Backpack.
It reminds me of the girls I nanny, always singing the backpack song from Dora.
Stevi’s in Africa right now. Uganda, actually. Backpacking.
That’s it.
That’s all she had when she left her home to come stay at mine.
A backpack. I think it’s pretty significant that you can fit most all of your important possessions into
one
tiny
little
backpack.
It was a grey thing, army surplus, and it slumped across her back, mimicking her own posture. She was pale, pretty, lean and long-limbed, with a slow, easy stride. Th pack looked stuffed, with clothes or books or whatever a girl like her might carry. He wanted to say a word to her, but he had no words that she would want. He was choked up, closed down. He needed her.
One day there was a backpack who liked to pack things.
something that defines my day. i carry it all saround me at schoool, where I am most of the days, being a schoolgoer for 5 days a week. I prefer to have a nicer looking one, butdont; hae the money, and dont really care that much to be honest. Pretty neat stuff those backpacks.
Hmm. I haven’t owned a backpack in years. Although I think I have permanent back problems from when I used to use them. Things were so simpler in those days. Now I have so much more crap to carry around. I do remember one year, 2nd grade, my hello kitty backpack. Pink and furry. Good times.
So heavy a sack, breaking my back, big and it’s black, I just can’t hack, this backpack.
Adjusting the backpack slung over his shoulder, Grant surveyed the landscape before him. Old and worn out, it was rugged, vicious, full of strange landscape formations and teeming with creatures that were no doubt as scared of him as he was of them — yet ready to strike at a moment’s notice. This would be an adventure, certainly; the first day of school usually was.
sitting in the mounthains, watching misty cliffs. eyes bright and my mind is clear. i am in heaven! the glory of the world speaks out loud!
The backpack was just sitting there, resting from a day of stress and pain at high school. A reminder of the stress I have been through, the heartache of graduation and saying goodbye to lost friends and some of the best people I have ever met, and probably won’t see again for a long time. Now with my cap and gown on, I walk away from this time and shut the door, forever.
When I see backpack, these are the words that come to mind: carry, books, high school, drama, pain, spinal injury, wallet, makeup, computer, pencils, gum, zippers, compartments, stuffing, overfilled, papers, essays, notes, studying, finals, teachers.
Hiking over plains of wheat and hills full of life. Survival with all the simple things found in one’s pack. Exploration of the marvelous world around us.
I filled my backpack with everything I owned, which came to one book, a toothbrush, and a few shirts – it was a little pathetic, really – before setting out into the unknown of the metropolis. It was a jungle of cars and concrete. I’d hardly been beyond my front door. it was huge and unknown and terrifying, and I already loved it.
I carry a backpack. I’m a school teacher. Sometimes I get teased because it makes me look like a student. But I teach 4th grade. That makes me one gigantic, incredibly developed fourth grader. That is all.
Backpack across his lap, Michael began packing away his accumulated wealth. That is, of course, to say two changes of clothes, twenty-seven dollars and change, and a box of Uncrustables. He eyeballed his home of thirteen years for a final time, and hit the road.
My everlong companion. Green is thy skin, my long lost travel buddy. My clothes hamper, my catch-all, my organizer.
for my birthday this year my parents got me a backpack. it is blue and has little anchors all over it. i like to remember that anchors keep me grounded, and who and what my anchors in life are. like my boyfriend. he keeps me right here on the ground, while my heads stuck in the stars somewhere, you know?
my backpack is so fucking heavy, but i guess its worth it and full of important shit. this reminds me of the last time we had a fire drill, and for some reason i was the only person outside who had their backpack, and i felt super lucky. if everyone else’s backpacks had burned in the fire, if there actually was one, and i had mine with me? pretty damn lucky if you ask me.
he was eurotrippin, and got stuck in some cheap motel, eating mac and meat, feeling the freedom of the world
waking to class i always notice people looking at my backpack. is it because it is green, it is plaid? it is unusual? it is stuffed to the brim with my laptop, water bottle and snacks to last me all day
I wear a backpack to school. My backpack is blue and gray. It is full of books and my laptop. I like backpacks with lots of pockets. Sometimes I find random things in my backpack from long times before.
Once there was a backpack that was brown and pink and had little daisies printed on it. It belonged to a little girl who used it for school and carried her books and colored pencils in it. One day she was on the bus, wearing a cute pink dress and brown rubber boots. A boy was sitting in the seat behind her drinking chocolate milk and she thought it wise to inform him that drinking on the bus wasn’t allowed. He wasn’t to happy to hear her telling him what was and wasn’t allowed, so when the little girl turned back around he poured his milk into her cute little backpack!
Rugged, healthy, tanned models
In Eddie Bauer checked flannel shirts and cargo shorts
Backpacking around the newest model of SUV
Because that’s what you do when you own an SUV.
You are more than a suburbanite.
sd
i
worrds are words that people think about and use to explain their ideas and thoughts from their brain and they use them to tell people thesesthoughts because they like them and they want to know. but words canj be helpful and harmful and helpful it depends on how you use the words theyre very imprtwnt
I’d like to take a backpack and fill it with all the things that are important to me and leave it by the front door just in case something bad happens at the house, in the world, etc…that way I have it all and can be on my way in a split second. Things I’d put in the backpack are pictures trinkets leashes for the dogs some water and a blank journal.
are very helpful. for the last few years, my life was contained in one of these. books, journals, directions and sometimes if i remembered, a protein bar. my life was being carried around in one of these and the fact that things are no longer like that, is kinda weird.
I would carry this backpack with me forever if I could. If only I could.
“It’s time,” she said. She pointed to the abyss below and nodded.
“Goodbye,” I whispered, and let go of everything I had ever held dear.
I pulled the strap of my backpack higher on my shoulder and the rough nylon dug into my clammy skin. I grimaced. The mob of people in front of me surged forward as the doors opened, a mass of colors and skin. Lots of skin. How I hated high school.
But I was back for my final year, and I followed the crowd of drones up the stone steps.
dinosaurs
vans
school
books
miley cyrus
bob marley
everythings gonna me okay
i love you
ms wade
math
graphics
ms mesina
lalala
shit
times running out!
ahaha
damn
backpack
how much time?
I used to carry a backpack to school. It was green and LL bean and said my initials on it. It would get extremely heavy of schoolbooks. I also use a backpack when i hike, i fill it with trailmis and a LOT of water and sometimes some other stuff.
My backpack is worn and tattered, filled with books, hard work, laziness, and memories of the best school year that has come yet.
It’s a plain backpack, with no embellishments on it, and no such writing that could distinguish it as mine, except for the torn cloth and the dust.
The year’s almost over, as will be the life of my backpack.
The backpack kept me straight. Like a person who has helped you through everything, but just like backpack, this person could bend your back forward. Until your back slumps and slumps until you can’t take it. you have to drop the backpack, yet there’s so much in there, your knowledge, your secrets, and everything, everyone expects you to carry whether or not you need it.
My backpack fell on the floor and I was too tired to pick it up…so I just stared at it. Pencils and stray paper were skewed across my carpet, looking for a place to belong.
That is backpack they say. That is what carries you around, keeps you lifted. That man, this god, is the savior among humanity. Simply unselfish, unreasonable and utterly overworked.
The crayons were dull as they pressed against the lined paper. School…this is school, I thought. It was less fun than I had imagined, watching my brother head off to 1st grade every day. I kept on thinking of how exited I was to go to the coat room and put on the purple backpack my mom had gotten me just for kindergarten.
The fact is that most backpacks are filled with tact and that’s a quite unfortunate fact. Most react and then retract, their hearts and minds cut short with tact. Just the facts, ma’am, just the facts. In the backpack.
im sitting here thinking about turning 17. time flys like the leaves outside , im getting old…….. college life ahead of me, no parents just me and my thoughts in a room shared by a person and my time is ……
i don’t have one. it hurts my back. uncomfortable. nerdy. too hard to lug around. only serves one purpose, while my one shoulder bag is also fit to be a purse/bag, and for over-nights, it’s a lot prettier. back packs look like your going to go sky diving or ready to travel the world.
I’ve always wanted to travel the world, but I’d be too scared. being alone, being in a world foreign to my own, i don’t think i could do it.
One time (well, actually it was my sophomore year of high school) I had a Disney princess backpack. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Disney, but the main reason I had was for the
shock factor.
But nobody laughed; everyone just thought it was cool.
Turns out I was a stereotypical hipster- even at the ripe young age of 15.
Backpack.
It reminds me of the girls I nanny, always singing the backpack song from Dora.
Stevi’s in Africa right now. Uganda, actually. Backpacking.
That’s it.
That’s all she had when she left her home to come stay at mine.
A backpack. I think it’s pretty significant that you can fit most all of your important possessions into
one
tiny
little
backpack.
It was a grey thing, army surplus, and it slumped across her back, mimicking her own posture. She was pale, pretty, lean and long-limbed, with a slow, easy stride. Th pack looked stuffed, with clothes or books or whatever a girl like her might carry. He wanted to say a word to her, but he had no words that she would want. He was choked up, closed down. He needed her.