3 AM Goldfish Philosophy

I was scrolling TikTok at 3 AM, feeling like a zombie from three nights of questionable sleep patterns. My hair was doing that thing where it looked somehow both greasy and frizzy at the same time — a true aesthetic disaster.

"You alive?" Maya's text lit up my screen.

"Barely," I typed back. "Why are we even going to Jordan's party?"

"Because Tyler will be there and you've been crushing on him since seventh grade. Also, free food."

Right. Tyler. The mere thought made my palms sweat through my phone case. Not exactly a vibe.

The party was exactly what I expected: too loud, too many people trying too hard. I stood by the snack table, nursing a lukewarm soda, feeling extremely out of place. That's when I found myself staring at Jordan's goldfish bowl.

"His name is Bubbles," some sophomore guy announced, suddenly beside me. "He outlived Jordan's last relationship."

I snorted. "That's not saying much."

"Heard you're into Tyler." He gestured toward the living room where Tyler was — ugh, playing guitar, because of course he was. "You should just talk to him."

"Easy for you to say, random guy whose name I don't know."

"It's Marcus. And seriously, what's the worst that happens? He says no, you feel awkward for five seconds, life goes on. Bubbles doesn't even care. Bubbles just swims."

I looked at the goldfish, basically just doing laps in a five-gallon prison. "Bubbles has a three-second memory though. He's not building up courage to talk to another fish."

"Exactly. He's just vibing. Be like Bubbles."

That was when I realized I'd been taking everything too seriously. I was the zombie, walking through half-present, overthinking every interaction, when I could just... swim. Just exist.

So I did something brave: I walked over to Tyler, palms still sweaty, hair still a mess, and said, "Your guitar playing is actually sick."

He grinned. "Thanks! I'm terrible though."

"Same," I said. "I once accidentally killed my sister's goldfish by overfeeding it."

Tyler laughed — actually laughed. "That's chaotic. I respect it."

We talked for an hour. It wasn't perfect. I stuttered. He said something awkward about his ex. But I wasn't a zombie anymore.

Later, Marcus found me by the goldfish bowl again. "Well?"

"I got his number," I admitted, grinning.

"See? Be like Bubbles."

"I'm never saying that sentence again."

But he wasn't wrong. Sometimes you just have to stop overthinking and start swimming.