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Some things you do for money... and some...

Blog you lazy bitch! I’m not fucking for your money, that’s for sure.

Write me everything, world. I would very much like to read what you have to say.

Here is a story that I heard from an old friend, after we’d spent hours complaining about our lives and their directions. We were sitting in a tiny blue café, completely empty but for an unattractive blonde waitress pretending to find interesting jobs around the place while really just messaging her boyfriend. Anyway, we were up front by the big windows overlooking the overcast outer, and she shook some sugar out of one of those tubes, and she told me this story.

There are these two fish, just the regular type of fish, and they were the most beautiful fish in the ocean. Every time the fish came into parties, all of the other sea creatures would stop and stare. They made the seaweed do that swoony thing.
Everybody knew they were made for each other. Their scales shone in matching hues, and when they swam, the ripples ran long and symmetrical, far into the sparkling reef horizon. These fish were perfect.
One day, the first fish is sitting around and turns to the second.
“Darling, I been thinking, why do we live down here in the cold wet ocean, surrounded by ugly fucking Grouper and Trout? I’m tired of sleeping in the holes between rocks, let’s make a break, try and live up in the light, on the outside.”
“You must be crazy!” said the other.
“We deserve it, baby! I want you to be happy, I want to live the life deserving of people as beautiful as us!”
“Ok,” said the second fish. “Because I love you, we’ll go. We’ll make the big break and try to evolve up.”

Many years now pass, and all of the ocean creatures forget the two fish, they disappeared long ago, and in this part of the reef, a great celebration is taking place, to commemorate the centenary since the founding of the fish community.
Of course, in the middle of the gala night and banquet, just as the band strikes up to play for the diners, all kinds of sea personalities, in crash the two ugliest, oldest, most torn up fish anyone had ever seen.
“Who in all the stormiest waters do you think you are!?” shouts a shark.
“We are the most beautiful fish in the ocean, of course! And we have returned to our birthplace triumphant and full of life.”
One of the older crabs remembered the two, and looked hard at the fish to verify if they were indeed the same couple. They had become something other, more than just fish in the time they were away, and none of their past friends could understand what had happened. The two fish were likewise confused. Why weren’t they standing in awe of their beauty as before? Why did they not rush to greet and fawn over them?
“What’s wrong with all of you!?” the first fish shouts.
“You… you are different,” comes the reply.
“That’s right,” he counters with pride, “we’re different now. And is she not still the most beautiful creature of this earth? Is she not aching and painful just to glimpse!?”
Each of these two, it seemed, had noticed no change in the other. To themselves, they were the same perfect heroes who had set out so long ago.
And nobody had the heart to tell them, to tell them that they were the best, they meant the world to everyone, and that they threw it all away for each other.
And neither fish had the heart to tell the rest that there is only ever one sort of fish to be, that the most beautiful fish in the ocean, was the selfish.