Thursday, October 19

A Story about Goldfish

In my opinion, we were perfect. We had everything we needed; just us in our fishbowl. Sure, we had the same problems that everyone has. Sometimes we couldn't eat all the food that they gave us. Sometimes kids would tap on the glass and poke at the water. But we-- we were perfect.
We were happy.

Then, you left me. You jumped out of the water. I was alone in the bowl and you had joined a school of fish I couldn't understand. I stewed in my own feces for a few days, swimming in circles and listening as the tapping on the glass grew louder and the water became cloudy and cold.

I remembered what they had said to me about there being so many more fish in the sea and I decided to jump out of the bowl. I don't know what I was expecting to find there; you? Another fish exactly like you? Something completely different? Anything that would make this all go away?

The water was thick and it was hard to swim. The toxins and chemicals had made the seafish mutated and frightening. I didn't like it. I couldn't breathe there. I felt so alone.

So I did the only thing I could do. I came back to the bowl.

But whatever I was looking for wasn't there. Just the same stale water we'd swum through together, the same food pellets we'd shared. The same tapping we'd cursed, the same glass that had kept us in a microcosm of our own, isolated from the rest of the world. Perfect, alone and together.

And they say goldfish can't remember.

1 comment:

Kai said...

.......wow.

okay mine's not as good, but.....

this is weird.



Saturday, March 03, 2007
TITLE: flowers? some lame thing i wrote

A few months ago, I found a flower seed. It intrigued me so much and was so beautiful, I felt it deserved to be planted; I planted it as best I could in the best pot I could find and placed it on my windowsill. Every single day, I did all I could for that flower. I watered it, nurtured it, even kept it in sunlight and heat. It began to mean more to me than I understood for myself. As it grew, I felt my excitement grow with it. I couldn't wait to see it bloom.

When the bud formed, I finally saw a glimpse of its true colors; but it didn't bloom. Days and days I waited, hoping, watching, waiting as the flower did nothing. Every day, my excitement ebbed and my heart sank with the sun. Finally I came to believe that it would never bloom; my golden, beautiful flower seemed to be stuck.

I was patient though. I waited longer than I ever could have for any other flower. But this one was special. Unique. I gave it time.

I guess there's some things time alone can't change.

In the end, I gave up. I knew I'd regret it, giving the flower away. But I did. I gave it to my neighbor--but that alone didn't upset me as much as the flower. You see, while the new owner was walking out my door, I suddenly spotted an unfolding leaf. Released from seclusion, it shone brilliantly. I followed my neighbor home, and he put the flower on his windowsill.

By the evening, it had bloomed.

My blooming flower is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in this world.

And it was on my neighbor's windowsill.

At first I tried to just move on, forgetting about it. I planted another seed, but that was a failure. I couldn't stop thinking about my special flower.

I decided to visit it. But as I approached my neighbor's house, I saw him watering my flower on his windowsill. It struck me then: all the watering, all the care and time and effort I had put into my flower, all my faith, everything had been forgotten. And now my neighbor could pick up where I left off, because he was its new caretaker.

But it was MY flower!! I cared for it! I grew it!!

And it was only then that I realized a truth. A truth I had been avoiding forever. A truth that had been covered up momentarily by frustration. I felt within me an ability to see through the frustration of the flower not blooming soon enough, the frustration of it being lost to me forever:

I loved my flower. I loved it with all my heart. But why had I only realized this now? For now, now it is far too late. I doubt I will ever see my flower bloom for me. For a while, I could visit my flower. It still was there for me. But that opportunity is gone. It seems my neighbor moved away all together, somewhere far off where I can't really reach him… and he took my flower with him. I guess only my memory can substitute now.

I'll miss you, my flower. Probably forever. I hope you find sunlight somewhere else; but I still fucking miss you.

Because… as hard as I try not to…

I love you.