Your Knapsack

I hate your knapsack.

I hate the way it sags.  I hate the way it's jam packed with what must be pure crap, or leaky food.  I hate the way it's adorned with patches that signify, what, exactly?  I hate the way you think you're being so ergonomic, or even cool, by actually using it but you're sagging too - I see it, major, major sag.

But, most of all, I hate the way your knapsack morphs itself, seemingly unbeknownst to you, into a ginormous external hunchback so each and every time you turn, step back or move in anyway whatsoever you completely knock me out because your knapsack has removed your power to denote your own personal space parameters. 

So get a clue and take off your damn knapsack.  I hate your knapsack.