The Sorrows of Young Werewolf (eyeteeth) wrote,
The Sorrows of Young Werewolf


Does anyone else know the feeling I'm talking about? It's not anxiety. It's actually similar to the feeling I imagine you might get if you were in a comic strip and were aware of it: wherever you go, this box goes with you. This time, fortunately, I only had it for one day (so far). I remember it from when I started taking Paxil, which was also in summer, so that I associate this feeling with relentless, pounding sunlight. I also associate it with the enormous carnival goldfish belonging to the people for whom I was housesitting at the time. This was apparently the only goldfish in the history of carnival goldfish to survive more than a few days, and was in fact years and years old by the time I showed up. I don't know if it's true that goldfish never stop growing, but this one was about a foot long. It also lived in an absolutely bare tank on the counter in the inhumanly immaculate stainless-steel kitchen, which juxtaposition cast a pall of anxiety over the room and in my brain not only because it was impossible not to imagine that the fish was about to be eaten but also in a larger sense because my God, what kind of weirdos keep their goldfish in the kitchen, is this like the upper-middle-class equivalent of the beginning of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre when we see that they have a chicken in a cage in the living room and that's the first unsettling thing because normal people absolutely would not do that?
Tags: dr. waterford, fish, medication, stix
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