What does a fish do when it leaves its fish bowl?

I am living in a goldfish bowl. I'm bumping against a glass globe. Regardless of which way I swim I keep hitting the glass.

The water I'm swimming in is probably my own tears. Goldfish belong in a bowl. Humans don't.

How does the goldfish get out of a fishbowl? How did it get in there to start with? It probably can't recall and I doubt that it cares. I know how I got into mine. I was too naïve and too trusting. I let someone bait me and catch me and keep me trapped. Knowing this now, I need to get out. I don't have the strength to crush the glass walls, and no amount of determination will shatter the boundaries of the world I'm trapped in.

I need to get out through the top of the bowl. But swimming to the top is alien to me. I'm used to swimming round and round in an endless loop. I need to change my position to ‘up'. I've been practising by standing on my tail.

Somebody looked in, saw this and laughed. “Funny little fish, you're standing on your tail,” he said. “I've always thought you'd finally go crazy in there, and now you have.”

Funny little fish, swimming up.

“No, you can't go there, you can't go out the top. You're not an angel fish. You don't have wings. You're a devil fish. You belong down there.”