Living life like a goldfish.

I’d like to live in your water-bowl, and be flushed down a toilet.

If you could be any animal, what would you choose to be?
— A wise hipster asked me recently.

“goldfish in fish tank” by Ahmed zayan on Unsplash

I answered, Goldfish.

Confused and baffled, as the hipster choked on his wool scarf coughing up a diluted stream of Frappuccino and what I assume were remainders of kale and avocado.

I offered to scoop it all up and feed it back, but the hipster gently refused.
He was sure his freshly oiled guava scented beard had caught most of it.

But what do I know, I’m a Goldfish; motherfucker.

Hipster continued, as he regained consciousness, trying to decipher the meaning behind it all.

“A fucking, Goldfish?”

“Huh?”, I wondered.

“You want to be a Goldfish?”, he further interrogated.

I’m sorry, what? Did you just call me a Goldfish?”, I inquired.

“No! You said you wanted to be a Goldfish…”, Hipster reminded me.

“Oh! Did I? That’s weird…well come to think of it. Goldfish are pretty cool, aren’t they?”, indulging the hipster’s curiosity.

“They have a shitty memory and they die…?”, Hipster educated me.

“But don’t we all? We all have shitty memory and eventually die. I’d rather die like a Goldfish.”, I explained.

“You wanna be flushed down a fucking toilet? Live in a water-bowl?”, Hipster further enlightened me with his wisdom.

“Don’t we all kinda live in a water-bowl, though? A imaginary one. Like a bubble. Gentle floating within it like a goldfish, pretending to be unaware of how life only disappoints.”, I realised my comments had unsettled the hipster, so I continued.

“Well…Goldfish don’t bother anyone. They live quietly in a water-bowl, in certain confusion. As they constantly forget where they whilst attempting to decipher the purpose of their existence. When they do, they forget again. Continuing the same journey they had once embarked upon.”

“I think, that’s also the definition of insanity.”, Hipster insinuated.

“What is?”, I humbly inquired.

“Goldfish!”, Hipster yelled, as he loosened up his woollen scarf.

“Yeah they’re cool, aren’t they? They live in a tiny water-bowl and constantly wonder the purpose of their existence.”

Hipster and me now shared a moment of silence. Pondering as to what exactly had sparked this conversation. He start rolling up a cigarette as I pulled out lit up my pre-rolled one.

Realising the silence was now turning to murderous awkwardness. I took it upon myself to embark on an insightful conversation.

“Hey so, if you could be any animal what would you be? I think I’d be a Goldfish. Aren’t they the coolest animal? Apart from Penguins. Goldfish live in a tiny water-bowl, wondering throughout this span of life what the purpose of life is; forgetting each time when they do discover what it all means. Finally when they do, their life comes to a startling end as their owner might have fed them too frequently or not often enough. Flushed down the toilet, into the unknown, into the ether, to rejoin their herd as they slowly decompose into the ocean where they once resided.”

“GO FUCK YOURSELF!”, The woollen scarf wearing Hipster responded, as something resembling avocado, kale, and Frappuccino remainders dripped from his guava scented beard.

I’m still unsure to this day what made him so agitated. I guess the world will always be a mystery.

I failed to learn the piano, so I decided I’d play the keyboard instead. //All aboard the Crazytrain.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store