A Two-Backpack Kind of Girl Anonymous

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I'm a two-backpack kind of girl. Let me explain.

The bag on my right struggles to swallow every last sheet from my heft of papers with its gaping jaws and its straps bite sharply into my shoulder, shrieking, "Your research paper is due next week!" I hold on because tossing the load would mean tossing everything I've worked for. The bag on my left is even heavier, flooded with waves of denim and cotton. There's a few folded meticulously: a cheer uniform, a concert dress, and a dobok. Along with my brushes and toothpaste, it's a clutter, but it's enough to live with. It takes a strong back to carry both bags everyday, but I toughened these bones enough to handle them. I could talk all about my baggage, but I'm not going to; I'll simply tell it as it is.

Moving constantly between houses and families, these bags are always at my shoulders. I carry them to my father's, to my mother's Airbnb, to my friend's house in a crazed cycle of confusion. How could I learn integrals, evaluate WWI's economic impact, let alone keep my eyes open each day when my mind is plagued by where I would stay that night or how I would find dinner? With all this weight, I've never felt more hopeless and alone.

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