Why I'll never keep fish again

When I lived in Singapore, I would sometimes buy little fish to keep in a little tank, just to add a little bit of life to a quiet and lonely flat.

I was never an avid 'fish-keeper' and never got into that whole 'louhan' or 'Nemo' craze. But I liked weird fishes, especially puffer fish, and that breed of goldfish that look like overstuffed fishballs floating dreamily in the water.

However, I now have this weird idea in my head that fish are scary little creatures that possess a kind of 'energy', or in this case I think ANTI-energy.

Some years ago, I came home from work one night and found that one of my puffer fish had died. A few minutes later, I got a call from home (family home in Malaysia), that my grandmother had passed away. Her passing affected me very badly. I actually suffered insomnia for 2 months, and it was the only time in my life I could drink Bailey's by the MUG, and still not fall asleep.


I still miss my grandmother terribly, and it still bugs me that I had not seen her for more than a year, and was going to see her in Malacca during Chinese New Year the next week, but she died just before. Her death made me do/think lots of stupid things. Like the feeling of regret that I was "old" and unmarried, never had a good enough boyfriend to introduce to her.

So I actually agreed to go out with this one guy at work, who had been asking me out for ages. I told you I did stupid things. It was just dinner with this dude, but next thing I know, his GIRLFRIEND calls me later that night to ask why I went out with him. Like, whoa... you can have your jerk-off back, there are plenty of other jerks in the sea. The worst part was when I asked this loser why he asked me out when he had a girlfriend, why all the sweet talk and flirty SMS-es. He turned against me, saying I got the wrong message and we're just friends.

There are many fish in the sea. One just died.

Then a couple of years after this whole drama, I was living in a different apartment, and had different fish (I can't remember what type). One morning before work, I woke up to find that two fish had kicked the bucket. Later that night, my cat leapt 11-storeys down from the apartment window, broke some bones, suffered internal injuries, and died a few hours later in a pet hospital, while I was out at a meeting.


So again, I only arrived when it was too late to say goodbye. Too late to apologize. Too late for one last hug and to say "I love you".

No insomnia this time around. Just pain. Just a heartache that never goes away, even till now. Sometimes when Ben's at work, the apartment feels empty, and for a second it gets lonely; I think of my cat, and feel the void that was left behind. But I'll never fill an empty space with a fish again.