I hiked my backpack higher on my shoulder. It seemed that with every step I took, the heavier it got. I still had a long way to go if I was to reach the mountain summit before nightfall. Already the sun was sinking low on the horizon. Fiery red painting and streaking across the sky, fortelling a blistering cold night should I fail to complete my journey before the life giving rays were lost to the darkness.
travel, adventure, sandwhiches,walks, trip, trains, lakes, mountains, sea. I sat there, staying across the river, the sound of the bubbling water providing the soothing lullaby my mind so desperatly needed. I dipped my toes into the icey water, seeing the small collection of fish dart away from my wriggling feet.
I have a backpack. it’s weighted down with memories, love, pain, education, adventure. I take it everywhere. School, home, friends’ houses. It’s filled with my most personal belongings and my least personal belongings. and that’s all you need to know.
traveling to a new destination, with only a backpack. nothing stopping me, nothing to hold me back, except the sun in my eyes. voices calling from behind but nothing is connecting with my mind except making it to a new place with my back pack.
She carried a backpack like it was a Prada purse. Heaven only knew what was in the battered, colorless old thing. But she glared at anyone who even looked at the thing funny.
Daniel might have laughed more, but when they dove into a foxhole and huddled for cover, waiting for the Nightwings to finish flying by, she opened her bag, and she had food and water and a blanket, so maybe her backpack wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
I catch myself staring at that word for the third time in a row. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning to it then I previously figured. Maybe not. There are so many possibilities, but you can store them all in a backpack.
she asked me to carry her backpack
i’m sure something was alive in that sack
a bag full of babies
or wild dogs with rabies
i was nervous to find out in our shack.
backpack, green open pouch with no zipper, the red lettered white pamphlets, folders, from the travel agency stick out, inviting pickpockets to make a go for a fool’s passport. My teacher sees this, disgusted, and I take pleasure telling him there is nothing valuable there. I don’t tell him I just wanted attention.
what you carry your crap in. For example, if you’re going on a trip you should probably take things. A backpack is where you store those items. It keeps them sealed. It can be any color.
Every day i carry it with me to school. And over the school year, it accumulates shit that I’m never going to use again after the year. But at the end of the year, when I’m done with it’s contents, I enjoy emptying it out, and trashing everything- an end to another shitty, tiring school year. And I’m not excited to start the next.
I keep everything in my backpack; I am a nomad, and therefore I keep what I need on my back. I know no bed or no dwelling. I carry everything in my backpack.
He stared at the backpack on the floor as he scratched at the back of his neck. It hadn’t been his idea, but Fi’s suggestion that he take a stay over kit to Topsy’s place. It was more embarrassing than he had imagined it, simply being here at the other’s door with the expectation to have some clothes to change into and a toothbrush to leave here. Was he really planning to come over that much or had it simply escalated to this? Well… He’d already ended up passing out on Top’s bed once or twice and… ended up doing other things aside from that, so why not? Sighing as his hand slid through his hair, this situation wasn’t just going to pass if he didn’t do something, so there was no sense in delaying it anymore. His knuckles rapped quietly against the heavy wooden door.
It was hot and dry, the arid kind of heat found only in the desert. With my pack over my shoulders, I trudged along the dusty ground just as I had been for the past two hours. I’d do anything to get to where I was going. I just didn’t know where that was yet.
I once had a backpack that had these cool squishy thingies on the straps and everyone absolutely loved it! It was very comfy and help so much stuff. Sadly, this one guy at my school that was an absolute jerk also had that backpack and so then I stopped using it. He had sex with my friend Angel and then dumped her and ignored her. so he is pretty much one giant ass hole. She is so nice and so pretty and he just was a jerk to her. She deserves so much better than him. That was last year and sadly, I think she is going back out with him… I hope that she gets out of that relationship soon.. Poor her.
the burden of youth, practice for a trouble-heavy adulthood. Causes back problems and injuries. I wish roller backpacks weren’t considered so extremely uncool. But, they can also be very pretty. My backpack was always dirty; I’m nostalgic for the days when students just carried a small load of books with a charming leather strap. Sigh.
he sat there, with the backpack in hand, watching her go. he didn’t know what she was doing without her clothes on, but he knew that somehow, she’d come back and ask for the backpack back. until then, he admired her fine backside as it slipped through the crowds
BACKPACK
He’ll grow up with one of those Thomas the Tank Engine backpacks he’s always wanted. He’ll grow up with a little red baseball cap and new, white sneakers instead of the used sketchers with a hole wearing out near the big toe. He’d finally go to the Play&Learn Art Camp with that funny blue logo of a little boy. That’s what I’d do for Mikey. That’s what I’d do for him if I could make more than $7.62 an hour at McDonald’s. Or let my mom know that it wasn’t just a scum bag I slept with that night. If I could let her know that this kid’s not just an accident to me, my Mikey. “Momma,” he calls me. And I just want that Art Camp, and maybe even the Thomas the Tank Engine backpack.
Oh my dear backpack….I yearn for the minute we will be together..Your silky packaging, your ample space. A fool is one who depreciates you. I need not more than my backpack to be happy, it fills me up better than love.
I added twenty items to my backpack. At first I thought I would add essentials, I added my toothbrush, tooth paste, a hand axe, a container for food, a knife, a stove I constructed from an old paint can, and clothing. But I rearranged my stuff and I removed two of the items, which ones were they?
It contains the weight of 1000 dumbells as I trek up the stairs that seem as high as Mount Everest. But my backpack is there for me, through and through. A backpack is a school kid’s best friend.
big heavy lugging backpacks filled with giant textbooks you’re not allowed to write in. no one wants the kind you can pull, except mothers, and you don’t ever want to empty the whole thing out…
My backpack is a wonderful object. I keep my desires inside, and in the hidden pocket that no one can find are my secrets. In the front pack there are my fears, but in the little pocket inside that (you know, the one can fit a cell phone) is the rational part of my mind that tells me everything will be ok. If you turn the backpack upside down and give it a little shake, some humor pops out, but not too much because I’m not that funny. Finally, if you look inside, really look, you can see the sky.
the thing that can hold your belongings, some people only have a backpack in their life. they can hold their entire life in that one backpack. it’s crazy that some people can carry that around for their entire life, from childhood through adult years. perspective
I visited a friend yesterday. Not at her home, but where she’s staying at the moment – a place that keeps her safe. It’s a mental health unit at a hospital. I was standing at the kitchen bench in the unit making a cup of fake coffee (the real stuff is too agitating for many patients), when I saw a man walking around with a backpack on. Was he a patient ready to leave at any moment, dying to escape the dullness of this plain, sanitary hospital environment? Or was he a nurse getting ready to escape at the end of his shift? Either way, the transience and immediacy of his backpack made me think about how much time we spend suspended in readiness for what’s about to come, be it good or bad.
love backpacks simply because they are easy to use and dont come with an instruction manual. The rules are very simple, unzip, open, place deisred items in the bag that you wish to carry around. Place the backpack on your back and then proceed to walk around with a big smile showing off you new backpack.
Fill that sack, with all the unsaid volumes between the two of you, and you and her, and you and her, and them. And carry it. And unload it, for the first time, onto the table. Examine each syllable of each word. And discard it. Put the empty bag back on, and walk away from the table into something new and bold and fresh.
If you look a the apartment you’ll see cups and plates strewn across
the counters and tables, leftover wrappers tucked bewteen the cushions
of the couch. The curtains on the window now only percariously
attached on one side, letting sunlight stream in. The whole place was
in a stated of disaray and yet, a simple black backpack sits by the
front door, perfectly perched there.Not covered in dust and lint,
waiting patiently like the TV blaring white noise for the person whom
they belonged to return.
i got a new backpack for christmas. hopefully it will last me through college! but its so sick! blue yellow awesome haha also i think of backpacking with this word which i hope to do lots this simmer! and yay camping friday with all my friends. so excited
I have an awesome backpack. It’s better than Dora’s even though it doesn’t sing. The reason why it’s so big is that it’s full of secrets. Like Gretchen Wiener’s hair.
i use a backpack every day when i go to school. i used to have this purple backpack that had my initials on it. i loved that backpack to death. had to get a new one for college, kind of representative of the transitions happening in my life. backpacks remind me of traveling, of long car rides with my family, airports and bus stations. fitting in as many fun things to do during the ride as possible.
Vacations are in and I would love to take my backpack with me and travel alone. Because I think I need to be alone. To have a journey by myself and really observe myself. It’s a NEED, and I know I will find it. That thing I want to find out…
my backpack holds my life. it is the essence of what I have become and holds my future. It keeps all my secrets and all my dreams… it never runs and never judges. It may be ripped and may be tattered but it still holds what is needed and even a little extra when it has to. It has been there for me through all the years, trips, and roller coasters I have ever been on and continues to stand strong.
I used to wear backpacks all the time, for school. But now that I’m not in school, I don’t wear one any more. They seem so young, like a safety blanket – a safety blanket for your back. I kind of miss it. And I miss how cool I felt when I wore a backpack over only one shoulder once I was out of my mom’s sight.
When I was a child I had a backpack that looked like a racecar. As I got older and got newer backpacks, I would fill the racecar with gravel and use it for “basic training” when my friends and I would play war. Running up and down hills on the farm with a bag of rocks made me a great quasi-soldier.
I hiked my backpack higher on my shoulder. It seemed that with every step I took, the heavier it got. I still had a long way to go if I was to reach the mountain summit before nightfall. Already the sun was sinking low on the horizon. Fiery red painting and streaking across the sky, fortelling a blistering cold night should I fail to complete my journey before the life giving rays were lost to the darkness.
travel, adventure, sandwhiches,walks, trip, trains, lakes, mountains, sea. I sat there, staying across the river, the sound of the bubbling water providing the soothing lullaby my mind so desperatly needed. I dipped my toes into the icey water, seeing the small collection of fish dart away from my wriggling feet.
I have a backpack. it’s weighted down with memories, love, pain, education, adventure. I take it everywhere. School, home, friends’ houses. It’s filled with my most personal belongings and my least personal belongings. and that’s all you need to know.
traveling to a new destination, with only a backpack. nothing stopping me, nothing to hold me back, except the sun in my eyes. voices calling from behind but nothing is connecting with my mind except making it to a new place with my back pack.
causing back problems for school kids everywhere
She carried a backpack like it was a Prada purse. Heaven only knew what was in the battered, colorless old thing. But she glared at anyone who even looked at the thing funny.
Daniel might have laughed more, but when they dove into a foxhole and huddled for cover, waiting for the Nightwings to finish flying by, she opened her bag, and she had food and water and a blanket, so maybe her backpack wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
OH, the wondrous things that can be found in the bottom of a backpack. Toys, school supplies, bits of old food and to do lists… oh look a cheezit.
heavy, books, school, boredom, travel, pairs, friendship, bonding, wiehgt, sadness, alone, hallways, class, pencil, laptop, burlap, strap, buckle, ring, pin, keychaiun, black, personal, run, hike, adventure
I catch myself staring at that word for the third time in a row. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning to it then I previously figured. Maybe not. There are so many possibilities, but you can store them all in a backpack.
she asked me to carry her backpack
i’m sure something was alive in that sack
a bag full of babies
or wild dogs with rabies
i was nervous to find out in our shack.
backpack, green open pouch with no zipper, the red lettered white pamphlets, folders, from the travel agency stick out, inviting pickpockets to make a go for a fool’s passport. My teacher sees this, disgusted, and I take pleasure telling him there is nothing valuable there. I don’t tell him I just wanted attention.
what you carry your crap in. For example, if you’re going on a trip you should probably take things. A backpack is where you store those items. It keeps them sealed. It can be any color.
Every day i carry it with me to school. And over the school year, it accumulates shit that I’m never going to use again after the year. But at the end of the year, when I’m done with it’s contents, I enjoy emptying it out, and trashing everything- an end to another shitty, tiring school year. And I’m not excited to start the next.
Wore a backpack since I was in jk….stopped during my first year in university, thought I looked pretty cool without one…
I keep everything in my backpack; I am a nomad, and therefore I keep what I need on my back. I know no bed or no dwelling. I carry everything in my backpack.
He stared at the backpack on the floor as he scratched at the back of his neck. It hadn’t been his idea, but Fi’s suggestion that he take a stay over kit to Topsy’s place. It was more embarrassing than he had imagined it, simply being here at the other’s door with the expectation to have some clothes to change into and a toothbrush to leave here. Was he really planning to come over that much or had it simply escalated to this? Well… He’d already ended up passing out on Top’s bed once or twice and… ended up doing other things aside from that, so why not? Sighing as his hand slid through his hair, this situation wasn’t just going to pass if he didn’t do something, so there was no sense in delaying it anymore. His knuckles rapped quietly against the heavy wooden door.
It was hot and dry, the arid kind of heat found only in the desert. With my pack over my shoulders, I trudged along the dusty ground just as I had been for the past two hours. I’d do anything to get to where I was going. I just didn’t know where that was yet.
I once had a backpack that had these cool squishy thingies on the straps and everyone absolutely loved it! It was very comfy and help so much stuff. Sadly, this one guy at my school that was an absolute jerk also had that backpack and so then I stopped using it. He had sex with my friend Angel and then dumped her and ignored her. so he is pretty much one giant ass hole. She is so nice and so pretty and he just was a jerk to her. She deserves so much better than him. That was last year and sadly, I think she is going back out with him… I hope that she gets out of that relationship soon.. Poor her.
the burden of youth, practice for a trouble-heavy adulthood. Causes back problems and injuries. I wish roller backpacks weren’t considered so extremely uncool. But, they can also be very pretty. My backpack was always dirty; I’m nostalgic for the days when students just carried a small load of books with a charming leather strap. Sigh.
he sat there, with the backpack in hand, watching her go. he didn’t know what she was doing without her clothes on, but he knew that somehow, she’d come back and ask for the backpack back. until then, he admired her fine backside as it slipped through the crowds
BACKPACK
He’ll grow up with one of those Thomas the Tank Engine backpacks he’s always wanted. He’ll grow up with a little red baseball cap and new, white sneakers instead of the used sketchers with a hole wearing out near the big toe. He’d finally go to the Play&Learn Art Camp with that funny blue logo of a little boy. That’s what I’d do for Mikey. That’s what I’d do for him if I could make more than $7.62 an hour at McDonald’s. Or let my mom know that it wasn’t just a scum bag I slept with that night. If I could let her know that this kid’s not just an accident to me, my Mikey. “Momma,” he calls me. And I just want that Art Camp, and maybe even the Thomas the Tank Engine backpack.
Oh my dear backpack….I yearn for the minute we will be together..Your silky packaging, your ample space. A fool is one who depreciates you. I need not more than my backpack to be happy, it fills me up better than love.
I remember back in middle school when I had to have a backpack for every single grade. It was a shame to be a “backpack repeater”. Shudder.
I added twenty items to my backpack. At first I thought I would add essentials, I added my toothbrush, tooth paste, a hand axe, a container for food, a knife, a stove I constructed from an old paint can, and clothing. But I rearranged my stuff and I removed two of the items, which ones were they?
It contains the weight of 1000 dumbells as I trek up the stairs that seem as high as Mount Everest. But my backpack is there for me, through and through. A backpack is a school kid’s best friend.
big heavy lugging backpacks filled with giant textbooks you’re not allowed to write in. no one wants the kind you can pull, except mothers, and you don’t ever want to empty the whole thing out…
My backpack is a wonderful object. I keep my desires inside, and in the hidden pocket that no one can find are my secrets. In the front pack there are my fears, but in the little pocket inside that (you know, the one can fit a cell phone) is the rational part of my mind that tells me everything will be ok. If you turn the backpack upside down and give it a little shake, some humor pops out, but not too much because I’m not that funny. Finally, if you look inside, really look, you can see the sky.
the thing that can hold your belongings, some people only have a backpack in their life. they can hold their entire life in that one backpack. it’s crazy that some people can carry that around for their entire life, from childhood through adult years. perspective
I visited a friend yesterday. Not at her home, but where she’s staying at the moment – a place that keeps her safe. It’s a mental health unit at a hospital. I was standing at the kitchen bench in the unit making a cup of fake coffee (the real stuff is too agitating for many patients), when I saw a man walking around with a backpack on. Was he a patient ready to leave at any moment, dying to escape the dullness of this plain, sanitary hospital environment? Or was he a nurse getting ready to escape at the end of his shift? Either way, the transience and immediacy of his backpack made me think about how much time we spend suspended in readiness for what’s about to come, be it good or bad.
love backpacks simply because they are easy to use and dont come with an instruction manual. The rules are very simple, unzip, open, place deisred items in the bag that you wish to carry around. Place the backpack on your back and then proceed to walk around with a big smile showing off you new backpack.
Fill that sack, with all the unsaid volumes between the two of you, and you and her, and you and her, and them. And carry it. And unload it, for the first time, onto the table. Examine each syllable of each word. And discard it. Put the empty bag back on, and walk away from the table into something new and bold and fresh.
If you look a the apartment you’ll see cups and plates strewn across
the counters and tables, leftover wrappers tucked bewteen the cushions
of the couch. The curtains on the window now only percariously
attached on one side, letting sunlight stream in. The whole place was
in a stated of disaray and yet, a simple black backpack sits by the
front door, perfectly perched there.Not covered in dust and lint,
waiting patiently like the TV blaring white noise for the person whom
they belonged to return.
i got a new backpack for christmas. hopefully it will last me through college! but its so sick! blue yellow awesome haha also i think of backpacking with this word which i hope to do lots this simmer! and yay camping friday with all my friends. so excited
I have an awesome backpack. It’s better than Dora’s even though it doesn’t sing. The reason why it’s so big is that it’s full of secrets. Like Gretchen Wiener’s hair.
i use a backpack every day when i go to school. i used to have this purple backpack that had my initials on it. i loved that backpack to death. had to get a new one for college, kind of representative of the transitions happening in my life. backpacks remind me of traveling, of long car rides with my family, airports and bus stations. fitting in as many fun things to do during the ride as possible.
Vacations are in and I would love to take my backpack with me and travel alone. Because I think I need to be alone. To have a journey by myself and really observe myself. It’s a NEED, and I know I will find it. That thing I want to find out…
my backpack holds my life. it is the essence of what I have become and holds my future. It keeps all my secrets and all my dreams… it never runs and never judges. It may be ripped and may be tattered but it still holds what is needed and even a little extra when it has to. It has been there for me through all the years, trips, and roller coasters I have ever been on and continues to stand strong.
I used to wear backpacks all the time, for school. But now that I’m not in school, I don’t wear one any more. They seem so young, like a safety blanket – a safety blanket for your back. I kind of miss it. And I miss how cool I felt when I wore a backpack over only one shoulder once I was out of my mom’s sight.
When I was a child I had a backpack that looked like a racecar. As I got older and got newer backpacks, I would fill the racecar with gravel and use it for “basic training” when my friends and I would play war. Running up and down hills on the farm with a bag of rocks made me a great quasi-soldier.
heavy
secrets
stress
school
love
hate
insecurity
pink
nice
butterfly
light
teacher
memories
friendship