Thoughts or Something like That

What am I?

I am a bookshelf
everyone uses me to store what they can not hold
placing their burdens on my shoulders
to watch me stumble while they walk free
leaving a mess they throw their last minute assignment to my feet when walking to lunch while I starve
I am a bookshelf because I did not ask to be here I was birthed and crafted to be used by someone in order to make their life more convient
but while you
stack
throw
and
slam
your things onto my once weak back I just stand taller and sturdy myself because I am a bookshelf and I was built to last