Goldfish Memories and iPhone Dreams

Jade stared at her goldfish, Neon, swimming in endless circles around his tiny castle. 'At least you don't have to check your Instagram stories every five minutes,' she muttered, watching his translucent fins catch the afternoon light.

Her iPhone buzzed on her nightstand — fifth time in ten minutes. The group chat was blowing up about Tyler's party on Saturday, but Jade wasn't feeling it. Not after last time, when she'd spent three hours perfecting her eyeliner only to spend the whole night lurking near the snack table, feeling like a zombie trapped in someone else's highlight reel.

'You're being weird,' her best friend Maya had texted earlier. 'Just come.' But Maya didn't understand.

Outside, a massive wooden bear carving loomed in the neighbor's yard — its painted eyes seemed to judge her every time she glanced out the window. Old Man Henderson had chainsawed it himself last summer, back before he moved to that assisted living place. Now the bear just stood there, frozen mid-roar, like it was laughing at all the teenage drama unfolding across the street.

Jade's fingers hovered over her phone, tempted to doom-scroll through TikTok until her brain felt like mush. Instead, she grabbed her sketchbook. Neon did a little flip, and she found herself drawing him — not as a tiny fish forgotten in a corner, but as this massive, glowing creature swimming through a galaxy of stars and Instagram hearts and forgotten birthday wishes.

'Maybe being a goldfish isn't so bad,' she whispered. 'They say you have a three-second memory, but maybe that's just freedom.'

Her phone lit up with a new notification: Tyler was asking if she'd come. For real this time.

Jade looked at her sketch of Galaxy Neon, then at the wooden bear outside, then back at her phone. She could say no. She could stay in her room, drowning in FOMO, letting herself become another zombie scrolling through other people's lives.

Or she could go. Maybe she'd have fun. Maybe she'd spend three hours near the chips again. But at least she'd be there, really there, not just watching from behind a screen.

She typed back: 'count me in.'

Neon did another joyous circle. Jade smiled. The bear outside didn't seem so judgmental anymore. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was starting to remember who she actually was — not the curated version, not the zombie version. Just Jade, goldfish memories and all.