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A man wakes up one morning with a plastic bag on his hand. Now, he can't get rid of it and it makes him feel guilty of a crime he did not do. How can he dispose it?
Every human drags something behind them—unseen, unnamed. Some knew the shape. Others just feel the pull, a quiet weight they can’t quite put into words. Some carry it with pride, some with pain.
Me? I carry a plastic bag.
What’s inside? Don’t ask. I won’t say.
All I know is that weight isn’t the problem. It’s the weight of eyes pressing on me.
Curious about what’s inside the plastic bag? Lean in.
This is my story.
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