I feel like I’ve been chasing it my entire life. Every time I get close it just makes me feel like I’m that much farther away. Satisfaction is fucking up my life. I’m never satisfied. Its like you want something and you get and you think it will make you happy but eventually you realize something is missing and you’re wondering what’s next. I’m always wondering what’s next. What’s next has forced me to leave things behind, that maybe I should have given more time to. Opportunities that weren’t explored. Love that was cut short.

I’m tired of moving. In four years I’ve lived in Toronto, New York and now London. I’m chasing satisfaction. I hunger for contentment. Maybe my happiness comes from chasing satisfaction rather than having it. If that’s the case I’m fucked. I want to settle down. I want to be happy where I am. I want to tell my story. I want to win an Oscar. I want. I want. I want.

I’ll never be satisfied. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe its my demise. fuck it. I’ll chase it. Until I want for nothing I’m here, in the hunger.




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