Class-to-class, day-to-day, week-to-week, etc. you see people walking around with backpacks and purses and such. Some carry many, some carry little; some pack light, some pack heavy. But me? I carry things of much more significance! Sure I carry those physical things such as paper, pens, books, condoms, and other things of varying importance. But the thing that carries all of these things, my colorful sharpied backpack, is a symbol of so much more that I carry. With it's intricate checkered pattern, my name, and a little wear and tear, it sits on my back weighting more than any could possible see or feel. Emotions and struggles with issues within. The memories, the feelings, and physical fatigue. Things that I want, things that I need, responsibilities, the desire to finally be free. But with worry of survival, no one to turn to, everyone turning away, leaving me all my lonesome. Suffering inside because of the repeated shattering of my heart and the attempts to rebuild it, over and over. Scorn and ridicule burn my happiness slowly away, constantly fighting to put it out with nothing but wood. I'm dying inside and there is nothing I can do! Like and incurable disease, like cancer, only worse! PLEASE I beg of you! SOMEBODY SAVE ME!!!