Willy and the Copycat: A Fish Tale About Finding Self-Worth

When I was in the 5th grade, I wrote a story called Willy the Fish. He was a character of my own creation—an orange goldfish who lived in a bowl but longed for more. That little story stayed with me, and years later I rewrote it as an adult. In that retelling, Willy learned the power of gratitude after a near-disastrous leap from his bowl. He discovered that joy was not found in chasing what lay beyond, but in appreciating the life he already had.

But Willy’s story didn’t end there. Characters, like people, have a way of facing new lessons just when they think they’ve figured it all out. And so here is Willy again—this time not wrestling with discontentment, but with something far more familiar to us grown-ups: jealousy, comparison, and the question of self-worth.

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There once was a goldfish named Willy. You may remember him—small, orange, and once desperately unhappy with the boundaries of his bowl. He had longed for the wild expanse of fields and sky he could see through the farmhouse window until one fateful leap out of the water taught him the hard lesson of gratitude. Rescued by a human hand and returned to the safety of his little round world, Willy had been reborn as a thankful fish. He swam with joy, savoring his food, his water, and his view. For the first time, he believed he was exactly where he belonged.

That might have been the end of Willy’s story. But life, as you and I both know, rarely stays tidy. It has a way of introducing new characters just when we think we’ve finally found our peace.

One morning, Willy awoke to discover something unsettling: another bowl, set right beside his own. And in that bowl? Another goldfish.

At first, Willy blinked in disbelief. He swam to the right. The other fish swam to the right. He swam to the left. The other fish swam to the left. No matter what he did, this strange new neighbor mirrored him exactly. It was as though his movements had been stolen, duplicated, performed back at him with eerie precision.

Willy’s fins twitched with irritation. He had worked hard to embrace his bowl, to make peace with his lot. And now here was some imposter, copying his every flick and glide. The humans who once leaned close to watch him now leaned toward both bowls, delighting equally in each fish’s movements. They even sprinkled food into both waters. Willy felt his scales burn with jealousy.

Am I not unique anymore? he thought. Am I just one of two?

That night, while the house was dark and silent, Willy floated near the glass and cried. He hadn’t asked for this. He didn’t want to share his stage. Most of all, he didn’t want to feel ordinary.

The next morning, determined to prove his superiority, Willy swam his morning laps at double speed. He zipped around the bowl like a comet, darting and twisting, his heart pounding with the effort. Surely this other fish couldn’t keep up. But when he paused, gasping for breath, there was his rival, watching him with wide eyes.

“Wow!” the other fish exclaimed. “You’re so fast!”

Willy didn’t reply. He launched into another furious sprint, pushing himself until his body ached. At last he stopped, utterly spent. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever.

That night he cried again.

The next morning, he tried something new—he swam backwards. Awkwardly, carefully, but determinedly. To his dismay, after only a few moments, the other fish was doing the same.

“Wow!” the fish said. “You’re so talented!”

Willy groaned. Nothing he did could set him apart. He tried turning his back, facing the far edge of his bowl, pretending the other fish didn’t exist. But even then, he could feel the presence, the imitation, the shadow that would not go away. That night, for the third time, Willy cried.

Finally, the next morning, his frustration boiled over. “Why are you copying me?” Willy blurted out, his voice sharp with desperation. “Why can’t you just swim on your own?”

The other fish tilted his head, surprised. “Why?” he repeated softly. “Because I think you’re awesome.” He smiled an honest, guileless smile. “I just want to be like you.”

Willy froze. He had been so wrapped up in his own jealousy that he had never stopped to imagine another explanation. This fish wasn’t trying to steal his identity. He was trying to honor it. The imitation was not mockery, but admiration.

Something shifted in Willy’s heart. He realized he had not lost his uniqueness at all. In fact, it was precisely because he was unique that the other fish found him worth copying.

From that day on, the two swam their laps together. Sometimes fast, sometimes backwards, sometimes in lazy circles that barely rippled the water. Willy in his bowl. The other fish in his. No longer adversaries, but companions.

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It is easy to laugh at Willy’s vanity, his sulking and scheming. But perhaps you recognize a little of yourself in him. I know I do. We humans are not immune to the sting of comparison. When someone echoes our ideas, our style, or even our very way of being, it can feel like theft. We mistake admiration for competition, and suddenly our sense of self feels fragile, as though it could be undone by someone else’s reflection.

But here’s the truth (and one I'm still learning): no one can erase our uniqueness. The essence of who we are is not diminished when others imitate us. If anything, it is confirmed. The presence of an echo means there was first a voice.

That lesson continues to stay with me as I build a life and a business here in the North Country. It is tempting to measure ourselves against others—to believe our worth depends on standing apart. But the truth is, our value shows up not only in what we create, but in how others are moved to carry it forward. Sometimes what looks like competition is really affirmation. Sometimes what feels like imitation is actually connection.

The next time you feel that uneasy twinge of being “copied,” I invite you to pause. Instead of asking, What have I lost? try asking, What has been noticed in me that is worth carrying forward? The answer may surprise you. And if we can hold onto that truth, perhaps we’ll find that self-worth isn’t about standing alone—it’s about swimming together, building together, and creating a life that ripples far beyond our own little bowl.

-Amanda