Dragging his legs along the ocean floor, the young octopus grew tired.

“Why,” he thought, “must I be doomed with eight entire legs?”

“Four legs,” he thinks, “would be plenty. Six, I could probably handle... But eight?” 

Anyone who saw him would be able to tell his thoughts were low just by looking at his body language. His head tilted forward and he looked down as he stumbled along his path. He looked weak, his skin gray.

Trudging along, his eyes fell upon a shell in the sand. He paused, furrowed his brow, and looked at the shell as if that shell was the entire reason he was unhappy. With all his anger, he used one of his too-many legs and flicked the shell away from him. 

Unexpectedly, he calmed and softened his face. He loved the sound the shell made when he flicked it. It clicked, moved softly through the water, and landed with a soft crunch as it gently dug into the sand. It was so… soothing.

He felt a slight glimmer of hope and decided to flick it once more, wondering if he'll again hear the magical sounds. *Click, swish, crunch* 

He does! Eyes wide, his hope grew until he giggled and smiled. His skin turned red with excitement. He felt as if he could not find another shell fast enough. He rushed this way and that, collecting rocks and shells of all different shapes and sizes to experiment with until finally, he had an entire assortment of oceanic musical equipment.

So excited by his new toys, he is startled when a grumpy fish comes up to him and barks at him, "Stop all that racket! Why are you making a pile of common TRASH?", he spat.

The octopus paused, confused, and glanced back down at his collection of broken shells and rocks. He stared for a moment before he came to a realization, "these shells are… are... broken,” he murmured, “these are… trash.”

He stared a moment longer, defeated, he whispered,  "The fish is right... there's absolutely nothing special about them… just like me."

He sighed, a deeply sad feeling welling up in the middle of his heart. He let out a whimper, barely loud enough for even himself to hear, and started to tread away from the site as he did before; head down, body weak, skin gray, thoughts critical.

He didn’t know how long he walked, alone, until he stumbled upon another shell that caught his attention. A shell that to him, looked so beautiful. He picked it up softly and held it near his heart.

He realized in that moment... he doesn’t have a good reason to give up something that made him so happy just moments before. He doesn’t want to be a grumpy old fish, so why would he listen to the thoughts of one? With a furrow in his brow, he decided to again collect his musical equipment, just so he can examine the pile.

He started looking in all sorts of places to find some interesting rocks, peculiar shells and pretty things. He is surprised by how much he enjoys himself just looking around, collecting this beautiful treasure and that.

And finally, with the pile in front of him, staring at it with determination, he uses his two front legs to pick up two rocks beside him, and starts to create a tempo, *click click click click*

With a huge smile on his face, he uses a third leg to flick shells, *click, swoosh, crunch, click, swoosh, crunch*

All of these sounds! They make him want to… dance!

The octopus had not thought to use all of his eight legs before but all of a sudden they seemed very… useful! He put another leg to work, and then another, until finally he was creating an entire musical production, all by himself! What a symphony eight legs can create!

It hits him like a tsunami when he realizes, just this morning, he actually hated all his legs. Now, he finds this feeling of clarity for every piece of him.

He looks up and sees an entirely different world. It is the same scene, with the same shells and the same rocks... But he is different. He looks down at his body, which used to be dull and gray in color. Shocked, he realizes he is now a mixture of vibrant reds, oranges, and magentas! A color combination he's never worn before and didn’t know he was capable of.

"Maybe," he thought, "just maybe… I was born exactly as I should be."