Did I ever tell you of the time in perhaps year 11, half a decade ago now (wow), that Shelley proclaimed that I could write "I am a fish" 100 times and receive much praise for it simply because I wrote it? I of course did so and later felt gleeful watching our english teacher chuck it.

Late last Saturday night, in bed a third asleep; I half groaned and half chuckled to myself as my brain clicked and I found reason to quietly exclaim "Ohmygoddd, I'm a fish. I AM a fish! arrghh."

Earlier that night, after seeing a movie with the boy, we had passed by a restaurant. They had a fish tank, complete with inevitably doomed fishies. He observed that they were aware he could be their doom.

clickety-click-click.

Somehow, this possibility of doom is just as tantalising as the potential for it's antithesis.

*****

At work, making coffee, the shot glasses are extremely hot. But I have to pour them into the cups, because it's my job.

As I grasp them my fingertips scream "why do you burn us?! don't you love us??!" but they know it is pointless.

There's no choice.
I'm worried about where it will lead.
Also pointless. There's no choice.

As I was typing that an ad on tv for optus announced "The choice is clear." Destiny mocks me.

*****

"Why did you leave the light on?"
"Just turn it off."
"I can't find the switch."
"Then leave it."
"Where's the switch?"
"Leave it."
"I can't find the switch."
"You've lived here for almost two decades and now you can't find the switch. Just LEAVE it!"

I should be more compassionate.

Maybe I give up too easily. Tired of failing to find the light, I slide into darkness and say, maybe that's how it's meant to be.

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