Life as a flight of stairs

First of all, I'm speaking of life from my perspective where I've gone through more than a decade and a half of years. Much as I hate to admit it, I think of my life so far as an unproductive one. To me, in comparison to others, I've not achieved anything to be proud of, anything I can call mine. I'm not the one to blame though, for life is tough. That's how relate this to my theory of life as a flight of stairs. Experience has made a mark in me, indicating that it gets harder along the way. Like a never ending flight of stairs that I've started to climb the minute I was given life, life had been set out for me like a carpet over these flight of stairs. Every step gets gradually steeper, of larger degree, of higher distance but simultaneously, I begin to wear out, lose breath and feel every ounce of energy draining out as though I've leaked. How I wished that I can just stop climbing these stairs, finally stopping to see a vast landscape before my eyes giving me the impression that my journey is going to be smooth sailing from now on, no more steps to push myself up. How I wished. There were times I thought I caught a glimpse of this but just to find out it was a lie to shadow the truth, to hide the reality that I still had a flight of stairs to climb. However, these lies are like a blanket of fog, which pass me by as I begin to get lost in it. In short, to stop climbing these stairs is to stop living. Inevitably, it has finally dawned to me that life is not a bed of candy floss. It's just a matter of time to realize that to live is to die. I'm not being pessimistic but I'm highlighting the truth that so many choose to avoid.