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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1230435-A-Tad-Confused
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Young Adult · #1230435
The struggle of growing up and finding purpose
I am beside myself, perplexed by this wetsuit that makes me slither through the water; snake-like and beaver bottom’d. When I stare at my reflection in the mother of pearl mirrors, I realize I am a mutant. I swear I could tear myself out of this straight jacket if only I had gargantuan teeth and talon’d toenails! Instead, I kick like a damn sissy with this tail tucked between my legs.

What mother would dress their child in birthly apparel fitting for only the jagged teeth of some pencil necked Northern? Who in the hell decided it was fitting for any white-bellied water creature to be without fin and fishtail, or at least a shell to protect its vitals? I have no arsenal of weapons; no evasive black ink, no poisonous sting, no ominous tentacles, no gnarly sharp teeth. I am pathetically helpless to fend off the likes of any evil predator within this murky water I call my home. This water that I call home…a home which is not safe; no safe haven , no safe harbor, not a minute’s rest…I am weary from constant vigilance. I shall surrender; succumb to the vastness of all that is beyond my grasp. I shall float upside down and expose this fleshy-white, almost translucent belly, like it was a flag of surrender. The only hope for me is to school around with the millions of my kind, in hopes that I am not the “one in a million” the next time some big finned Crappy decides to go on some crazed eating binge. I’m just plain tired; tired of swimming with these scrawny legs, and tired of moving so fast that I sometimes forget where my stomach is. How can I ever stay focused if I’m constantly on the move? How can I ever enjoy life if I’m always in fear of being swallowed by it? I’m tired of eating this disgusting diet of algae pabulum, like some sniveling child; why can’t I dine on the green phosphorous wine and shellfish, that which I should be entitled to? Oh, the things I could do if I was just different!

I’m sick and tired of trying to hide behind this brain that wishes it could have been something else, someone else, some place else. Why me? Why was I chosen to be the lowest rung on the ladder of this food chain frenzy? Boy, when I figure this all out, there is going to be hell to pay! That is…if I live that long.

In the meantime, I shall just propel myself forward with these little arms that I seem to have acquired out of nowhere. And, I think I will just lunge at this vulgar fly just above the surface and swallow this worthless, winged larva, which has no chance in hell to get past my tongue’s incredible stickiness.

Wait…what the heck…when did these peculiar little apparatuses show up? I don’t recall these arms, these webbed paws of propulsion, and this sticky tongue…what metamorphosis can this be? Am I one of Kafka’s creations or is my wishful thinking truly reality? What have I done to deserve this gift of promise?

I feel this incredible girth, this enormous weight, substance…I am large beyond belief. My four legs feel the dampness of soil and wet reeded grass beneath them; my belly drags and mud collects. I raise each limb carefully, examining each; trying to determine their purpose. I realize with clarity I am outside of the confinements of my home. I have been transported to foreign terrain; one that requires movement without water; movements that require hops and leaps. My body trembles and I leap forward, to heights I never knew existed…I land with all fours securely planted, my small webbed feet wiggle within the mud and cool grass. I leap again for the sheer pleasure of it! This time I’m tossed upside down; my mud covered white belly is exposed, and the fear once felt in the water returns like a slap in the face. I quickly right myself and my throat bulges like a goiter ready to burst. I produce this sound that echoes through the dark crisp air. It is symphony’d by hundreds of similarity. I am perplexed by this transformation; its reason is unclear.

Off in the distance I hear noise, it is not the similar croak, although I do hear that as well, but this noise, it is wonderfully different. For some reason I am not frightened, as it is melodic…almost hypnotizing. I listen intently as the sound serenades me and others like me; our croaking follows the rhythm…




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