Stagnant

My spirit feels buried deep inside of my body today.

It’s in that dark place.

I quiet my brain to observe my thoughts and emotions as I search for clues.  I re-trace my steps, and I try to question all of it.  All of it is unkind.

I conjure an image of a betta fish living inside of a brandy sniffer.

A fish that was once known as The Siamese fighting fish has now become a popular desk ornament.  This fish can adapt, but it should not be expected to flourish in an environment this small….with artificial light.  And, I, surrounded by artificial people.  

How can either of us survive living in these stagnant waters?

What can I learn from the betta that will help me to change, and to adapt?

And, when I do will I be remembered for who I once was, and what I was once capable of doing?

Or will I too be forced into tiny living quarters, and then turned into some ornament?

 

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