I fear I’ll never be satisfied. I’m always ready for the next thing. Even when I’m exactly where I thought I wanted to be, my mind is elsewhere.
I think this is something I’ve felt since I was a kid. I spent a lot of time day dreaming. I always pictured myself exploring jungles or I’d be having silent conversations with my imaginary ballerina friend. The daydreaming was innocent enough at the time, but it’s slowly turned into dissatisfaction. If I don’t constantly have something to preoccupy my time, I grow easily depressed.
I suppose this can be a good thing; it’ll always keep me searching for adventure. But at the same time, it’s draining. If I feel I’m not constantly working to push myself to grow as a person, I’m failing. I have the constant nagging feeling that I should be putting myself in new situations at all time because if I don’t I’ll be complacent with a boring life, and nothing is more horrifying than the thought of being boring.
Some of the people that seem happiest in the world are the people who have learned to appreciate what they have. But how? I don’t understand being content with what I have. I always want more. I always want something new.