I’m aiming to spawn all the time, have hatchlings that I can’t raise to adulthood, and  carry larvae inside me every day so that you, human, never go hungry when you eat me. I never  complain about your unannounced arrival, leaving me alone in my net, sobbing for my  offspring who become entangled in your net for your enjoyment. I never complain when you  come and pick up my family members without my consent, relocating them from one place to  another so you can observe their daily lives as entertainment. I never moan when, on top of  consuming the water I live in, you have the freedom to take away my friends and family, and  sometimes even my food, causing me to go hungry and broken at times. I never complain about all of those. But how do you relate to my kindness? Yes, how do you express your gratitude to  me for keeping you healthy? You are destroying me. 

I am not sure when you’ll realize that thousands of millions of fishes die every day as a result  of a plastic in our stomach, an inability to chew gum, a stopper in our mouth…You don’t feel  bad about tossing a bottle into the lake after relieving your thirst. You don’t feel sympathy when  you see a plastic bag in our home, and you never pick it up because you claim it doesn’t concern  you. You don’t feel bad about disposing of your garbage in the water we live in. You don’t care if we can see in our water whether it’s brown, black, or dusty. You do not even bother whether  the water is poisonous to us; in fact, you truly don’t care. 

All that matters is that you have us on your plate, severing our tail and gratifying your human desire, filling your stomach for only a day before throwing it out and some rest coming  back to us. How evil can you get? You do not worry if our baby fish mistake little pieces of  rubbish for food. Leaving our population older than younger. This is not my concern now,  because I understand that the circle of life forces us to be consumed by those who are stronger  than us. But my concern is that you do not give us a chance to live before taking us away; thinking about that makes me cry every single day; it makes me realize you don’t even deserve us; it makes me realize you don’t deserve my efforts to be more productive so that you never  go hungry. My nephew died of starvation after having his head in a plastic bag for three days.  Our darling dolphin, Minis, was frightened by a plastic bottle in his neck, leaving him powerless to swim around with none of us able to remove it. For weeks, Mother Gotter was moaning about her little calf fin being partly sliced by an unknown tool. All this never happened to our forefathers in 1800. Grandma constantly told me how much her great grandmother desired to go back in time when water was still water.  

You know what, I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this when I don’t expect you to change now. Many others have spoken on my behalf, yet you refuse to listen. Do you know why I drowned as a fish for the first time (one that never happened in my scariest nightmare)?  Yes, plastic bags were encircling my tail, and I couldn’t get rid of them. I’m writing this with a frantic urge to be saved, but I’m miles away, I can’t find food, and my friends can’t help me.  This is my final statement before I give up. I just want you to remember that this world was given to all of us equally. I wanted to live the same way that you wanted to live a healthy life.  Mother Nature warned us to live in harmony, but this is not what you aspire to. 

I don’t have the authority or the need to retaliate because I know you’ll look for me and won’t find me. Yes, you will miss me one day, but you will not be able to find me because you are the one who destroyed me. I hope my last letter torments your conscience and eventually causes you to change. I fervently hope that one day, my grandchildren will not have to go through what I experienced, and that no one will die in the same way I did. I’d rather finish on your plate than be stuck with nowhere to escape. You are to blame for our deaths. You got what you needed; I’m leaving, and you’re losing.