14. The end of consistency

Maybe I am more emotional than a man should be, maybe I am the worst carnivore ever, maybe I am simply the weak offspring of two strong parents. But after three years of raising a fish, you get attached.

They weren't just any fish... these fish stuck with me through thick and thin, through richer and poorer, through happy and sad; they are the only thing in my life that has been consistent over these years that have been so volatile. There has been depression and rebirth, there have been destructive moments and refreshing ones, there have been regrets and endeavors, but the fish have been swimming, as always, in the 10-gallon tank. There has been heartbreak and recovery, there have been mistakes and good decisions, and there have been countless episodes of Scrubs, but the fish don't go away after 100 episodes; they simply swim around the 10-gallon tank and eat whatever fish food is sent their way.

But, as with any other trend, this consistency had to come to an end. The fish had become far larger than what is recommended for a 10-gallon tank, so I was forced to acquire a new, larger tank. My roommates and my friends and I were excited to supply the new tank with a filter, rocks, decorations, and typical functional necessities, but we went one step too far... a new algae-eating fish from Walmart to keep the tank clean, unlike the previous tank. We transferred the fish to the new tank; little did we know that the Walmart fish was, like many other Walmart fish, infected. It did not take long for it to die, and my fish followed soon after.

I stared at those sick fish for hours; I know that fish don't supposedly feel emotion, but I don't think I've ever seen them so sad. They flocked together as long as they were all reasonably healthy and then the smallest one quarantined itself. I bought some water treatments that were supposed to cure them, but I couldn't save any of them; over the course of the next two or three days, they were all gone.

I know, they're just fish, but I've been dreaming about them. I had a dream that I never took the last one to die out of the tank and that it was magically cured. But then the cured one turned out to be the ghost of the sick fish; the original fish still floated at the top of the tank. I was excited for a second.

Goodbye fish; may you rest in peace.