The Suicidal Goldfish

The water in the bowl was ever bleak. The only movements that ever rocked the bowl were when the vacuum cleaner hit the table. Beside that they were alone. Three goldfish in a bowl and an underwater plant. No more and no less. He never had any privacy but on the other hand he never really felt he interacted with the others. He could not even remember their names. Nor could he remember anything he had ever done. He was convinced that he has had an accident and that he now had problems with his memory. Nothing seemed to make sense around him. He could only swim in circles or in very short straight lines. The only thought in his head was the question of what it all was good for. It was good for nothing. His only chances of friendship were to fish he never had any contact with. Even when they swam past each other there was nothing. Not even a friendly glance. Whenever these thoughts gripped a hold of him he would try to hide in the plants as he did right now. He felt that it provided cover from the nauseating truth that resided in the bowl. The fact that he was alone and always would be and that he would never be able to remember a passing day.

A thought struck him. Maybe he should just end it all. Hardship was a part of their life. His loneliness was true hardship but it did not have to be like this. There had just been water filled in the bowl. It would not be impossible to make the jump. It would be difficult but not impossible. He swam towards the bottom with the thought of the forthcoming saviour. The relief when he would be free of the agonising world inside the bowl. He thought of pain was not frightening. His entire life had been filled with pain. This was the thought that took total control of his small brain when he rose towards the surface. He broke the water. Gently touching the edge of the bowl resulting in a horrifying downfall. He had made it.