You can sit there, in your chair at school, in your bed at home, at your kitchen table with your family, on the couch with your siblings, in an uncomfortable chair with a therapist, and the feelings never change.
The settings around you may change, your family may change, your friends may change, but you―you stay the same.
Because after you go through your routine of your mother and father yelling at you, your siblings shouting rude comments at you, you finally get away.
But it's not a relief.
Here, at school, you have to put a fake smile on your face, laugh when others laugh, act like you're having a good time, but when underneath, you're dying.
The bell rings, brings no relief, no aid, no―help.
Back home it's no different than the morning, yelling, screaming, fighting, arguing, it never ends.
You go up to your room to start on the piles of homework and missing and late work; you've never been able to finish any of the assignments.
After about a minute of sitting there at your desk listening to the hell going on downstairs, you can't take it.
You take the hidden knife you stole from the kitchen and head to the bathroom.
Every flaw and mistake about your life, your family, your friends, yourself, all comes to resurface at this time.
The only time that is―relief.