Isn't it ironic?

 It's like daring to swim in the ocean, moving from one shore to another, this is how it feels. You give up so much, you endure so many things, you keep on swimming no matter the weather, the holidays, the wasted time, the emptiness in front of you. For nothing, in a quixotic quest, you keep on swimming, because ironically, this is what you were taught to do. And you finally see the other shore, but no matter how hard you try to move, every muscle, every limb, every beating of your heart says no more. And the harder you fight it, the more the water pulls you in, seeing while you drown in that deserted land, that you have been trying so hard to reach it.