Personal Narrative-Virgil

Decent Essays
I carry with me an old backpack that I borrow from my father, it is old and worn but does the job, since the last one I had ripped in the bottom and let all its contents into the world. Inside that old backpack, I carry textbooks, I carry a small pencil case, and a slip of indifference that peeks out of the front pocket. The pencil case holds a rainbow of coloured pens, erasers I can’t seem to keep track of, and the pencil I’ve had since the ninth grade. The pencil carries the 3 years I’ve had it, the knowledge of every exam and test and essay I’ve ever written, and the thought that I should get a new one when I move away.
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