Looking out the window I can catch a glimpse or two of the sea. A few days ago I was there, feeling the breeze and the sea spray as I played in the sand with my friends. Now I can only stare out of this cramped tank. There are other lobsters sharing this space with me-and we're not able to communicate as we come from different parts of the sea. Yet I can see in their expressions the same loneliness and longing I have.

Occasionally some children wander over and stand in front of the tanks housing us marine sea life, and point. Why were they the ones outside? Let me be free. I hate this place where there is no room. I hate this place where I am ogled at. I hate this place where I can see my home so near yet so far. I want to jump out of this container and into the sea where I can swim freely, where I could bask in the sun's rays reflected underwater.

Yet, all of these I want to do are impossible. I know that I will never get to see my family and friends again. I am resigned to lying here lifelessly and awaiting my fate. What else can I do? The tank is enclosed, and I cannot jump out of it. No, I have to conserve my energy. I need to save it for what will come next. For now, I reconcile with the fact that I cannot escape, and lie here and gaze uselessly at the source of noise polluting my mind.

There are people out there, eating out of plates and conversing contentedly with their peers-while I see my peers served on a ceramic platter. How unfair can the world get? When can all these killings stop? They are laughing. Hello? I want to say to them. Precisely why are you laughing? It's not funny.

They're not the ones on the plate being carved up and shovelled into a mouth reeking of horrid breath.

I stare at the people. A man pats his over-rounded stomach. A woman touches up her makeup. Someone belches. Repulsiveness certainly runs in the human race.

I'll miss the world. I'm not disillusioned; it just seems so clear to me. Why would they go out into the deep sea just to catch me, to put me on display in a restaurant? It is highly obvious that I will meet the ugly fate of my friends-to be eaten.

I do not care one bit about what is going to happen to me, really; the only thing I want to do is to see my family again. That might be possible, who knows they could be brought into the restaurant and dumped into this similar tank.

It just depends on whether I'll be here. I don't think I will be, this very minute I'm being brought to the kitchen.

Goodbye, my friends.