The miserable lake

I stood at the edge of the lake.

The lake said, “What do you want?”

I said, “Nothing, I’m just here to feel peaceful.”

The lake said, “I wish I were peaceful.”

I said, “What do you mean?”

The lake said, “I’m unhappy because I wish I were an Ocean, and I hate that I smell like fish, and I can’t seem to get rid of the algae, and I should have more and better waves, and I’m bugged that when people get in me, they shudder and complain that I’m too cold.”

I said, “I gotta go.”