Books, like a lot of other things, need to come in a person’s life at the right time. Too early, you won’t get it. Too late, the moment has passed.

I picked up Why Fish Don’t Exist back in May because of some recommendation on Substack. To be honest, I was confused by the first half - a lot was going on and the author kind of lost me. Life felt too bright to read this somber book, so I temporarily put it down.

Three days ago, I decided it was time to go back to it. Guess what? Everything I needed to hear was in this book.

The seemingly random arcs of the story WAS leading to a point - what you wholeheartedly believed to be true, the structure, the categories, the good vs. bad, right vs. wrong… is not real. The world is ruled by Chaos. It sounds disheartening, but once you accept the Chaos, you’re free see the bigger picture, the messy truth of nature.

This is exactly the arc of my story.

Similar to the author, I also grew up with the strange idea that I didn’t matter. Not that anyone has ever said that to me, but I was also never told otherwise.

The first 30 years of my existence, I lived a detached and lonely life. I was around people but never felt seen. I got invited to all kinds of activities, but I knew I was an outsider. Some days I wish I never existed.

Of course, I could never admit to any of this. Instead, I built a shield of cynicism, distance, and extreme practicality. I called it my personality.

Then, after I turned 31, something happened. I was knocked out of my monotonal orbit. The relationships, the family. Things were falling apart faster than I could keep count. Then came the “fish don’t exist” moment - nothing I thought mattered meant anything, and I wasn’t who I thought I was at all.

Last year when I was traveling in Yunnan, I saw these beautiful handmade fish ornament. A deep blue body, slightly smaller than the size of a palm, with white lines and stars sewn into it. On the very top where mouth is, a thick red string is connected through a red and white pom pom. I hadn’t heard of the book yet, and fell for the fish at first sight. I immediately bought two - one for myself, one as a gift for a friend.

I never ended up giving the second one to said friend, and the little fish just sat in my drawer for 6 months. Until the longest day in June, I met a beautiful man with eyes that press into little moons when he smiles. Instantly, I knew the fish belonged to him. He accepted the gift.

Then weeks later, in the remnant of the breakdown, I finished the last page, looked up and saw the fish on my shelf. It hit me - that was no ordinary gift. It was a message.

Although I didn’t understand the book back then, something must have guided me toward giving the fish to him. I must have recognized something familiar, and I gifted him the most important lesson I’ve learned in this life with the only way I knew how.

I later found out that he has indeed been carrying his “belief in fish” all these years. I could see it wearing him down.

I wonder if he’ll read these words one day, or he’ll finally get the message, or he’ll never think twice and toss the fish out.

Just like the Chaos, that’s out of my control.