I put myself into a silent water tank, and people outside shouted inside. I spit out bubbles and wanted to explain something, but the voice disappeared.
The water pressure falls heavily enough to become a kind of person walking down the street with a water tank.
The water tank seems to have become a part of me.
Or maybe I need the water tank to survive, so I bring it with me.
I tried hard to jump out of the tank.
But the lack of oxygen and the feeling of weightlessness pulled me down.
Others knocked on the outside of the water tank and asked me why I surrounded myself with water.
I don't think I need the water, but I can't.
But I couldn't say the words. Just like I don't understand that others don't need water, I don't expect others to understand my need for water.
Can only answer:
There is no way, because I turned into a goldfish.
(A short article about a girl who said goodbye to her four-year relationship and opened her heart again)
(The whole article is narrated with animals as the main names)
Intention: Growth and changes brought about by time