Dear Backpack,
Could you please stop killing my poor spine? I spend five days a week with you, trudging around with you on my back to show off to the world that yes, I have school books and yes, I have a picture of an owl. I rely on you greatly, and even take a bit of pride in you- when you don't smell like cheese crackers at least- but it's becoming increasingly hard to appreciate your usefulness when I end up with the seven dwarfs hacking away at my shoulder blades and spine as they sing "hi ho! Hi ho!" every other day. Is there really nothing you can do about that? Shift a little weigh perhaps? "Accidentally" get sick and puke all my books up in the toilet and flush them away? I'm not asking for much, just a little relief. If you could oblige, I'd been infinitely grateful.
Yours truly,
Lauren.
Could you please stop killing my poor spine? I spend five days a week with you, trudging around with you on my back to show off to the world that yes, I have school books and yes, I have a picture of an owl. I rely on you greatly, and even take a bit of pride in you- when you don't smell like cheese crackers at least- but it's becoming increasingly hard to appreciate your usefulness when I end up with the seven dwarfs hacking away at my shoulder blades and spine as they sing "hi ho! Hi ho!" every other day. Is there really nothing you can do about that? Shift a little weigh perhaps? "Accidentally" get sick and puke all my books up in the toilet and flush them away? I'm not asking for much, just a little relief. If you could oblige, I'd been infinitely grateful.
Yours truly,
Lauren.
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