Love is like a betta fish

I had a Betta fish by the name of Sam and, like any enthusiastic pet owner at the dawn of the relationship, I took wonderful care of him in the first few months. I gave him his own ten gallon tank, changed the water at least every two weeks, and went to the pet store to buy him new plants and rocks. He was vibrant and wonderful and, best of all, he was friendly. You could tell he had personality.

After a while, I got busy with school and Sam fell to the verge of death. For some reason, I irresponsibly never noticed he was getting sick, taking for granted that Bettas can last for a long time in poor conditions. When it finally dawned on me, he was swimming lopsided and refusing to eat. My poor Sam! I struggled for weeks to get him back to a healthy condition. He was bloated and couldn't eat but I was diligent until the color finally returned to his fins. But I don't think he was the same Sam as before. We couldn't look at each other the same way again. Me, pained with guilt, and he, traumatized by my neglect. He was more hesitant to eat from my finger when I offered him his food. He was less vibrant in color and he stopped blowing bubbles. Yet, in a way, he was still Sam. He was still my Betta fish. And he still followed my finger when I brought it near the glass.

When summer of 2010 came around, I changed the water less and less often. I paid less and less attention to him and stopped considering his feelings when the weather was cold. In short, the cycle had begun all over again despite all that we'd been through together. It was my fault for neglecting him. Sam held in there for a long time and although I was away for most of the week when I was doing research at UCLA, he stayed alive for me and my sister fed him on the days she remembered. On the weekends, I would feed him, but I knew... I just knew that one day, it wouldn't be enough. Then I moved to Hong Kong and I forgot about him. I made my sister make a vague promise to take care of Sam and feed him. Still, he was forgotten.

When I returned, his tank was empty. And to this day, I never paid homage.

RIP. Sam the Betta fish.

I miss you, Sam...