The snow is beginning to pile up, creating a little happy birthday-hat on the fish’s dirty head, and filling the creases of my father’s winter coat. I decide not to get the hot chocolate. Sometimes, the independent ones don’t want to be recognized.Besides, being a misfit is not something to be too proud of anyway. Once so clean and sparkling, swimming high in the air above prospective parents, owners, victors - among others so similar to itself - there was a time when it was a wanted thing. Now, dragging through this frigid filth, the contrasting failure is the most hopeless and heinous of eyesores. It’s all too awkward and too difficult to understand – better to just leave it alone collecting snow. Oh, but that’s no way to live, as though the comfort of others is the only goal! Rats gnawing at fins and eyes do so just to do something with them. They’ll eat and tear until everything disappears, and then move on to the next unforgivably existing thing, without a single thought paid to memory. I want to scream at the fish, “Get up! Show them what you can do! Recognize your past! Realize how far you’ve come!” But the carnival fish would not be able to understand me; it probably doesn’t even speak English. And besides, it’s a fish.
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