She felt she was a jellyfish, floating round, manipulated easily, seen through, landing where she landed and leaving when she’d leave. But occasionally she’d hurt those that got too close.

She’d sting them. She didn’t want to. And was sorry ever since, but her tentacles were made. Made with the stingers ready for anyone that got too close.

She tried to stay away from the sea but needed it to survive, so she’d drift in the same currents, the same as everyone else just kept distance, kept them safe.

Until that brave turtle came along, nearly impenetrable. So protected from danger and he lured her away from loneliness. There was a moment of convincing. He had to show her that he was strong enough and he seemed strong enough to resist her pains.

But he was too strong, too bottled up in his shell. No communicating with the inside, and it was tough for her. After a while he let down his guard and with one quick motion he slipped on her tentacle. He was hurt and left.

Now left alone to face the current with few jellyfish friends who had chosen the back path, but she needed someone close and as much as she loved her friends, they weren’t enough.

She hasn’t forgot that turtle to this day and she wished upon a twinkling coral that she may have him back. But maybe it isn’t meant to be.

Back to reality now, enough with the fish metaphors, as much as I like them. I guess I like them because they make me feel like I could be close to her. Maybe even close enough to be her turtle. One problem.

I can’t swim