"I'm fine."

You know what's the saddest thing?

When you work so hard, and it all ends up meaning nothing.

You try and try again, building a sand castle of all your hopes and dreams, with the palms of your bare hands. It isn't easy, scraping and bruising your skin here and there. Blood stains your growing castle, but it doesn't matter, for as long as it stands erect for you to ogle in the future.

You're pushing, and shoving, and digging, and patting, and meshing, and pressing. Sweat is getting your forehead damp, and you're losing a lot of blood now, and your legs are cramping, and your back aches, and you just want to sit down and sip some water, but you can't and you don't because you really want this to be successful - you really want it to work.

But nothing ever seems to go the way you plan it to.

Suddenly it begins to rain. Suddenly the tide rises in. Suddenly the soil is too soft. Suddenly the wind is too strong. Suddenly the crabs decide to bite your feet. Suddenly your hands get numb.

Your sand castle crumbles.

You try to save it, thrusting your body 'round the falling art. Grasping and grabbing and nudging and pouncing at the grains that don't wish to stay in place any longer.

And before you know it.. the sand has been washed away completely, gone with the sway of the waves. Dust of its remains blow gently into your eyes and hair. The rain bathes your hand and feet clean.

And there you sit: palms still open, as if ready to catch something. Mouth still agape, blood still running down your elbows, breath still shallow. You sit there, as if there should have been something before you - a trophy, a sculpture, a creation, or possession somehow.

But nothing.

There's nothing in front of you. Nothing around you even, but the crashing tide.

You're alone, with only your emotions. Shock, pain, disappointment, anger.

And there's nothing you can do now. You can't start over, you can't rebuild, you can't pick up any pieces - for all your tools and materials, your puzzle pieces, and scribbled blueprints have gone away with your efforts.

You gave up everything you had for that sand castle - your hopes, your dreams, your passion, your love, your  time, your care, your heart, your soul - you saved nothing for yourself, nothing left in your pockets or up your sleeves.

So that is exactly what you have now: nothing.

And with that, there is also nothing you can do it about it.

You can cry and scream and throw fits and tantrums. You can kick the sand or toss stones into the ocean - but nothing changes.

So you hold back the tears. Struggle against the frown on your face and fight for a smile. Behind your eyelids is a waterfall and beneath your breath are curses.

Now isn't that just the saddest thing?

And sadder yet, that you must clench your fists, after all that has happened, and lie desperately to yourself, saying that everything is okay.

Even when the truth is that it isn't.

It's not okay. Not even in the slightest bit.