A boy, he enters school. He dreadfully walked to his classes, but it was getting harder. Day by day the ground he walks on feels rockier and his clothes feel heavier, but he carries on. He made it to class. The struggles of his life have just barely started. As the boy sat in patience, waiting, he felt that time moves slower in this place. The boy who was practically asleep was shocked awake by the sound of the bell. He was given a moment of joy when he heard it, although quickly ripped away as he stepped through the doorway into his next class. The day ends. The boy walks home and immediately after he steps foot inside a feeling of relaxation hits him. His bed, reached to the boy with open arms, as the boy laid on it, he was happy. This was the one time in the day that the boy could relax, free from all of his worries. The bed was his friend, the only friend he had that he truly loved, as the bed was there for him always. The only thing stopping the boy from feeling endless struggle. But then morning came again and the boy stepped out of bed. He walked to school. But the weight of his backpack felt almost unbearable, and the ground was as if he was climbing a mountain.