Oh Dear.

Yesterday, just as I finish up a phone call with my mom, confirming I now have two jobs and such issues involved, it ends with "looks like life hit the up swing."
We made a new rule never to say that again.
I come home, Huckleberry Finn, my beloved fish, seems to be sluggish. Its happened before, I threw some food in the tank, he moves a bit but seems to be chilled out. A 10 mintute, 1600m row and 13+ biked miles later. Huckleberry is not moving, nothing. And his body already seems to be decomposing.
I'm about to cry as I read this. He was my replacement boyfriend. My fake family. Now no more filter hum to fall asleep to. Me and my roommate considered leaving him, so I could take him home and give him a proper burial, but I could not bear to see him start to float. So I put him in the toilet, but did not flush him until I had cleaned the tank and pebbles and had some time to sit on the tub and consider what my life is coming to.
Its really dumb how important he is to me. I had him since last August, which I'm told is a long time for a goldfish to live for, but I knew by the second day this was it. I called my momand told her, "I'm extremely emotionally attached to this fish." She didn't believe me 'til she met him herself, and she agreed that he was an awesome fish. My roommate doesn't understand, and it didn't help she was drunk at the time of me being the most upset. She still hugged me while I cryed and told me Sunday when I got back from Baltimore, we would make a roommate excursion to buy a new fish. I just don't think I can do it. I loved Huckleberry Finn, he was my damn fish friend.