132,801.

My name is Pete. Not Bubbles. Not Swimmy. Not Fishy. Not any of the ridiculous names you humans give to my kind. We are goldfish; not stuffed animals. We do have parents, and we did get named.

132,812.

They say that my memory lasts for less than five seconds. They say that by the time I swim around my bowl once, I will have forgotten that I had ever made the short trip around the glass prison. What do they know?

132,819.

You use us for decoration. You use us so that your child will learn how to take care of a 'real' pet. Can you imagine what life is like for us when you put us into a tiny glass bowl, all alone? We are put on a shelf to look pretty. Have you ever thought of our feelings? Of course not.

132,828.

I have watched your children grow up. I have seen every single movie and t.v. show ever turned on in this room. I have listened to the loud chatter of people as they walk by my prison. I have seen the room rearranged nine times since I was brought here, and the walls change color twice.

132,835.

I eat flakes of something that smells just as bad to me as it does to you, whenever you remember to feed me. I have to stare at the chubby fingers of your cousins when they poke at my prison attempting to make me move. I am put into an even smaller prison once a month if and when you remember clean my bowl. My only company is the fake plant sitting mockingly amongst tiny colored pebbles.

132,849.

We goldfish count our age in trips around our bowls. Always changing. Though it is needed, if we were to count in any longer unit of time, many of us would have a very pitiful number to claim as their age. Many of us only live to around 2,000 rounds; equivalent to about 2 weeks.

132,853.

I am a goldfish. I will never be more than a decoration to you. I will continue to swim around my glass prison; counting. I will continue to watch the happenings of the living room. I will continue to be a goldfish with an apparent memory of five seconds. My name is Pete.

132,859.

132,860.

132,861.