My lovely backpack

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I realized what I was doing and quickly stopped crying. He's not my dad he's not going to change And he will never be anything to me. I wiped my tears and sat down on another trees tangled up roots next to the poor tree I had taken my anger out on. I slumped over and slowly dropped my backpack on the ground next to me and looked at it. It isn't a very pretty bag not gonna lie, it's black and all ripped up. It's missing the left strap and the pocket on the front is ripped off. I don't even remember where or why I had stolen it, but for the last 2 years it has been my only friend.
"What am I going to do?....." I said with a blank face staring at the trash called a backpack. "I don't want to do this..." I said as I slowly set the Bag in my lap. I slowly pulled the zipper and looked inside the bag, it was full of everything I owned that i hadn't stolen. Things I've collected over the years that I had paid for. Which if you haven't noticed, I don't buy a lot of the things I own. "Hah look at this!" I said as I pulled out a plastic ring I had bought for 25c out of a gumball machine when I was 10. I remember buying it for a girl that went to my school who then turned me down for some kid with "diamond" necklace. "Remember when I went to school?....hah that's when I was normal!" I said laughing to myself realizing I was talking to a back pack.
I looked through the things that I had at the top of my bag, things that made me happy in moments like these. Things from when I was a kid. But then I get to the bottom of the bag, the stuff that makes me even happier and sad at the same time.

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