/here's to the fools who dream.

The water was very deep from where it lay, but enough for it to look upon the moving waves on the faraway surface, enough for it to develop hope. Every morning, the light would reach through the sparkling water, reflecting shiny, rainbow-colored stripes onto its welcoming hands. The Sea Anemone, as people called it, loved the sun and the sky, even though it hardly had any idea what those actually were. In its imagination, the surface beyond was a whole other beautiful realm; unlike this massive body of freezing water pushing and pulling it, the sky was where the Sea Anemone could break free and live the life it wanted. With its feet stuck to the flat rock below, it couldn't do anything but submit to its unfortunate fate. Still, its hands never stop waving, hoping one day the sun would come down and touch the depth of the ocean, heating its surrounding up with loving warmth and bright light.
No, don't get it wrong, the Sea Anemone still had a passionate love toward the tiny world where it lived in. Day by day, it would happily enjoy the unrecognizable yet constant changes around it. The soft slopes of sand never stayed the same; they shifted and shifted, then settled down for a while before continuing on their trip on the other end of the sea again. The Sea Anemone once asked, "Hey, Sand, where are you going?", and the sand replied, "Along with the waves, up to the shore, where we could spend the day on the warm surface, under the bright sunlight and salty wind." The Sea Anemone was stunned by the beautiful scenery described by the sand, although, more than anyone, it knew that its fate belonged to the depth of sea ocean, that it was never able to have a free, independent life like the sand. Nevertheless, it kept its faith and believed that maybe one day, it might have the chance too, like everyone else around it. It reminded itself, "For now, just learn to love the thing around you first."
The sand didn't just go alone. They would often carry some quiet little friends with them. The Sea Anemone asked those buddies how they were doing, but they didn't talk. Had it not been for the sand, the Sea Anemone realized, they wouldn't have moved either. At some point during its ever changing life, it dawned on the Sea Anemone that those were shells - once the beautiful, sparkle costumes of some tiny creatures such as oysters or hermit crabs. They were dead, deep under the sea before they had a chance to reach the shore they longed for up above, so the sand carried their remnants to their destination, like a gift for them after their death. Occasionally, some of the shells would get stuck inside the Sea Anemone's dense tentacles. The Sea Anemone would embrace them, tell them about its desires, before letting them float into the endless width of the ocean again, hoping one day they would reach the shore. It never knew if they ever did, but it didn't mind, because patience was its greatest possession.
The schools of fish passing by were also its closest companions. They changed too, like its surroundings, but they were always there. There were these two friendly tunas who swam around for a while, nodding it a friendly hello. The other day, a mandarin fish paid it a visit, flashing her colorful tails and lovely fins like she was the queen of the ocean. It didn't see the dolphins around a lot, but when they went past, it must have been the best day ever. From the bottom of the sea, the Sea Anemone could admire the view of the dolphins' glorious jumps; all flashy, glittery water and tiny columns of bubbles disturbed the calm surface in a reckless yet stunning way. The Sea Anemone loved the sea creatures, the particles that made up its society, but at the same time, there was something that made the Sea Anemone feel restless.
Not even one fish would stay with it. Its tentacles, filled with enough electricity to paralyze a human-being, scared everyone away, even the dangerous sharks that created fear under the ocean. In the end, it would always be just the Sea Anemone and itself, alone under the pit darkness, cold and untouchable.
Miracle was not what the Sea Anemone expected to happen; normally it didn't happen just because someone wished for it. The Sea Anemone held that thought inside its mind, convincing itself that the probability of getting out of its solitude had reduced to zero. But no, the miracle was suddenly there, one morning, totally out of the blue.
The clownfish.
The clownfish swam along with the warm undercurrent flows, under the mild light, toward the tired arms of the Sea Anemone. She wasn't as gorgeous as the mandarin fish, nor as enthusiastic as the dolphins; she was quiet, flapping her fins, aiming straight for the anemone's heart. She broke through the stinging tentacles that the Sea Anemone had built stronger day by day to isolate itself, resting herself on it, and had a peaceful sleep. The weight of her tiny body was barely visible on its rough skin, but the Sea Anemone knew she was there, and it was protecting her from all the danger from outside, it was giving her a necessary shelter. For the first time in its entire life, the Sea Anemone wasn't focusing on the bright sunlight anymore. All that it cared for was the light presence on its back, the caress of her fins, and the slithering movement among its waving arms. She was there, and it loved her.
In the morning, the clownfish would wander around playing with the sand and the coral reefs, but when the day turned dark, she would return. She wasn't like the others. She stayed. She gave it the feeling that it hadn't been having for years - the feeling that it was precious to at least someone; it was needed. When she was deep asleep, the Sea Anemone would curl it tentacles into a protective roof, making sure she was safe and sound inside her home. It would still look up to the surface, seeing the dolphins, but its attention kept adverting back to the body of water, looking for a familiar fragile silhouette. The dolphins might have the chance to see the sun, yes, but the Sea Anemone recognized that it had a sun for itself now - a sun in simple orange and white stripes, a sun that it could embrace, a sun that needed it to shine.
Wasn't it enough?
Yes, it was.
The Sea Anemone thought it could finally have the completed life that it had been waiting for. Everything was perfect; the cerulean shade of the ocean seemed more vivid, the water seemed softer, and the light seemed brighter. Because she belonged to it, and it belonged to her.
Yet, fate played a trick on it again.
One day, the clownfish stopped coming back.
She was gone, as usual, but even when the sun had set, the shark had been out hunting for its next victim, the water had turned cold, she didn't return. The Sea Anemone waited for a whole night long, opening up its arms to welcome her, ignoring the impulsive waves, wishing her to be safe. But she disappeared, without any foreshadowing nor goodbye. The next, and next, and next day. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
The clownfish left.
The Sea Anemone was all alone again; its arms had grown tired from waving, its heart had grown tired from beating, its mind had grown tired from thinking. It looked up the surface again to notice the sun, still as bright as it was a long time ago, shining stripes of light down through the waves, soothing its cold soul. After spending too much time caring for the clownfish, the Sea Anemone almost forgot how much it used to long for the eternal sun that would forever be there, even if one day the Sea Anemone died, or the water dried off. It had always been the sun that touched it with concern and warmth that no one could ever compare to.
The Sea Anemone let the recognition drift off its mind as its tentacles stopped moving. It was truly peaceful now, it thought. The Sea Anemone had learnt a lesson before its consciousness left it: sometimes, we abandoned our old, true feelings, or even our intimate passion, to be able to settle with something. We attempted to seek for the happiness that was already there; we could never reach it, not because we couldn't, but because we needn't to. And maybe, when it was dead, it could finally find its way toward the sun, like the seashells it once saw.
The Sea Anemone died, on a warm summer day, under the flaring sunlight that coated its dead tentacles in a net of luminosity, brighter than anything on earth.