Category : Stories

Sub Category : YoungAdult

          The sound of shuffling feet wakes me up from my nap as my bus stops at our school. I stand up groggily as I try to find a way into the line of kids trying desperately to get out of the packed bus. I grab my backpack and shove my way off, holding my jacket closed as the cold outside air hits my body. As I walk into the school, warm air envelopes me and I sigh as I make my way to my first class. 

“Good morning!” says the teacher.

“Morning,” I mumble back. I drop my backpack next to my desk, it landing in a loud thud next to my feet. Relieved of my strain, I plop down in my seat. My backpack is extremely heavy. It aches my back and shoulders, as I lug it everywhere I go.  I’m not surprised though, with everything I carry in there. 

You see, I’ve had this backpack for as long as I can remember, and as I go, I collect more and more. More papers, more notes, more thoughts, fears, and memories that I can never seem to throw away, so my backpack just gets heavier and heavier. The more things I stuff in there, the harder it is to control, and I worry that someday, it’ll be too much to carry and explode on me when I least expect it. So I try to organize it. I try to separate my thoughts into different folders for each main subject. Things like School, Family, Friends, Appearance, Past, Future, Death. 

I try to ignore the ache, so that I can get through my day, but it’s hard to do that when you have what might as well be a bag of bricks on your shoulders. I’m afraid of showing the ache, because it’s embarrassing. I don’t want someone to have to go through the halls helping me carry my backpack. Everyone else can carry theirs. 

So I just live with it. I live each day with this weight overwhelming me. Sometimes, it’s just too much, and I feel like it would be easier to just get rid of it all. The weight and the pain. But I can’t do that. I can’t. I have to keep trying.

I think the hardest thing about it all, isn’t the weight itself, but the feeling that no one else is dealing with it. I look around and see everyone with their backpacks, just shuffling along the hallways, seeming fine as always. Not one glimpse of the ache. Not one word of the pain. As I compare my backpack to others, I see that theirs are compact, and slimmer than mine. Am I alone in this? Do I just not know how to deal with the weight properly? What does everyone know that I don’t? I feel so alone.

But I’m not.

The truth is, everyone feels alone. Everyone feels like they are alone in their suffering. The truth is, you’re not. You’re not alone. You can compare yourself to others as much as you want, but the truth is, others are comparing themselves to you. Everyone’s journey is different, and we all ache differently. Their backpack may look empty and light, but it really isn’t.  As much as you try to act like you’re fine, others are acting, too. Everyone expects the normal to be “Normal”. But the truth is, it isn’t. The truth is, you are not alone. The truth is, everyone has their own heavy backpack.