I left the coffeeshop and started my morning walk to the library. The coffee was in my right hand and my bike in the left, rolling besides me. It had gotten colder, and I was glad I took my scarf with me. When arriving, I locked my bike and started my way up the stairs. I hesitated to go to my usual place. My friends sat there, not of them working or even being concentrating. I hated their attitude towards education. None of them took university seriously. I turned and went looking for another desk to work at. Once I found one, I pulled out my book I had to read for one of my classes. I noted down whenever something important as mentioned and added my thought to the rim of the text, so I could remember later. Ever now and then I sipped on my coffee.
The girl across from me looked quite pretty. I realized that while taking a break. She was focusing on the books in front of her, always taking notes. She did not seem to notice me and so I took my time looking at her. Her eyes were beautiful, and I loved the shape of her face. When I had to start working again, it took all my willpower to refocus.
The next day I picked the same working space again, drinking my coffee. I decided to listen to music while working. Surprisingly, the girl from yesterday sat across from me. She worked in a manner tat suggested she was ambitious to be good at what she was doing.
This howl watching her study thing continued from now on. I soon learned that she sucked her lips into her moth when she was reading something complicated, and you could see the panic in her eyes when she could not find a fact she knew was there. She never relied on only one source. Her coffee was black, and she rarely listened to music while at the library. I only ever saw her walk here and soon I knew her schedule by heart. Or at least whenever she would arrive here. I learned about her habits and her routines. And I loved it. Yet, I never found the courage to talk to her. I was afraid she might be different then what I imagined her to be. And so, the next semester rolled around without me saying a single word to her.
It was Monday morning, the first day of lectures. I sat next to my friends, talking before the lesson would start. But then she walked in. Her hair was open, and she wore this flowery dress. All I could think about was how lovely she looked.
Later, when I was at the library again and sitting across from her, that was when I decided to talk to her, but I did it in a way that would be me. I took out my notebook and ripped a page out. I took my pencil and wrote “Hello my beautiful stranger. I think it is about time that we get familiar with each other. Beloved, your favorite study buddy”.Lastly, I added my number.
I sneaked it into her backpack when I was leaving university today. I was hoping she would find it soon and be interested in me and text me. Hopefully, this was not a mistake.
I once owned a goldfish. It lived in a little fishbowl. It used to be my grandmothers. When I got it, his bowl was bare. No sand or any kind of plants. This goldfish never swam around. It stood mostly in the same place, barley existing. To me, it always seemed sad. Its world was so colorless. Nothing existed in it. The bowl was just filled with water and the fish itself. And I knew that he could see me and my flat. At the time, my rooms were filled with all kinds of things. Lamps were giving off lights in different shades, on every table was a tablecloth and on all the seats were pillows in all colors of the rainbow. Most of the time, there was music playing. I had such a lively apartment, I always felt happy when I entered it.
One evening I sat in a chair, listening to a musical peace by Mozart. In my hand was a whisky on the rocks. And on the table in front of me stood the little bowl with the goldfish. Right there, I started thinking about how this fish must feel. It is in its little bowl filled with nothing. It spends all its days watching my happy and filled life. I thought about how I would feel if it was me in that bowl watching that goldfish life my live. And honestly, none of the emotions I felt were good.
Th next day, I called in sick at work. I had a coffee and a toast for breakfast and got dressed. I left my apartment, went down the stairs and sat in my car, I took out a CD and put it in the radio of my car. Shostakovich, the second waltz. As I started driving, my fingers tapped along to the music. The destination: the zoo shop. It only took me about 15 minutes to get there. I parked and got out of my car. I strolled into the shop, looking for somebody to help me on my mission.
First, I got a bigger tank so my goldfish would have more space. Then I picked out different types of soils for said tank. Next, I went to get all types of decorations. Plants, caves, and decorative stones. I also bought the needed technology and better food for my goldfish. Lastly, I got some company for my goldfish. I thought it might be lonely. I went to the counter and paid for everything. Getting all the new stuff to my car took me a few trips for and back.
When I arrived at home, I was lucky because the parking spot before the house was free which meant I would not need to carry everything so far. So, I started unloading and carrying everything up to my appartement. Soon, I realized I had underestimated the weight of everything and when I was finished carrying everything upstairs, I was sweating.
I had a quick lunch and then got to work preparing the tank. I filled it with sand, stones, and soils. Next, I planted the different plants I had bought. I decorated and put in the little cave. Afterwards I got to work installing al the technology which was harder than it sounds. Finally, I filled the tank with water and put in the new fish. Overall, it took me 3 hours to get the tank ready for the move in of my goldfish.
Finally, I went and grabbed it and his old bowl. I talked to it, explaining what was about to happen. Then, I carefully put it into the tank to the other fish. It swam around once and then in the cave. I looked at it and thought to myself, what a shy fish it must be and that tomorrow it can start forming new friendships. Then it would finally be able to life its happy ever after.
Later that day, I took a drink and set down in my armchair. I was grabbing my book and read but took another look at my goldfish in its new home. I considered its new life and came to the realization that it was in desperate need of a name. And just like that, I decided to name it Beethoven. I did in fact not know his gender, but he anyways always felt more to be a male fish to me.
I read a little and went to bed. The next morning Beethoven still swam in his cave. I fed the fish and left for work. When I returned home, he was once again in his cave. This pattern continued and, on the weekends, I realized that Beethoven was not leaving the cave at all, not even to eat.
This did not change over the weeks, and I began to worry. I did not know what to do and so I did nothing and prayed it would get better. And sadly, one morning, I woke up and Beethoven was dead. I took him out of the tank and flashed him down the toilette.
I never expected it, but I was sad Beethoven was gone. Sitting in my armchair one evening I began thinking about why he was dead. I mean he died when I just made his life more colorful. He after all got a life just like mine, only adjusted to a fish.
He had all a fish would need and refused to take it. He did not eat or swim at all. It seemed like he was sad that I tried to better his life. It was like he wanted to stay in his tiny, empty, and depressing bowl and just be a fish. Was that what had been wrong? Did he want that life? But why? Or was it just me that thought he was not content in his old home, alone, and without a name? Is it my fault he is dead?
I sat there, in my thoughts about Beethoven’s death for hours and when I finally fell asleep it was already 3 a.m. Yet, I can recall my last thought before sleep took me extraordinarily clear: How can I assume to know how Beethoven felt? After all, I am not a fish..
