One thing I’ve always hated about myself is that I can never be satisfied. I’ve never really dug deep into why that could be. I guess it could still be a variety of things, but I don’t want it to get confused for not being grateful for what I have. There’s a quote that I’ve seen very often these last few weeks, which circulates on social media. It goes something like, “humble enough to know I’m not better than anybody, but smart enough to know I’m different.”

I hate saying these types of statements out loud because I never like to come across as being over-confident or cocky. I can’t help it, though. I knew I was different since I was a kid. I knew that if somebody failed to do what they were telling me to be careful with, that I would be able to overcome whatever challenges. I always have felt like I have been the chosen one or something. Challenges were only put in front of me to overcome, not to stop because of them.

I guess that’s why I’ve never been able to stay satisfied with what I’m doing or what I’m accomplishing. Being satisfied with you what you’re doing seems to be complacent. I also believe that being satisfied with what you have is a false feeling of satisfaction. That shouldn’t exist at all, and if having material possessions satisfies you at all, then that may not last.

No amount of money will keep you satisfied if all you’re chasing is money. There’s no amount of fancy cars that will have you feeling great if that’s what you’re feeling. How often have you bought the latest material object that you thought would help you feel complete, only to begin to feel the same emptiness after a certain amount of time?

It’s taken me quite some time, but I’ve realized that having a lovely house doesn’t mean shit if the people that are sleeping under the same roof as you don’t love you and respect you. Buying all the shit you want for your house won’t fix the underlying issues you had before buying your place.

Sometimes I start writing with one thought process, which in this case is that I feel like nothing satisfies me. After I start writing for a little bit, I realize that maybe I’m wrong. This doesn’t seem to be the case in this situation. I still am never satisfied, and no lie, I’m okay with that. I want that to be the thing that’s said when I pass away one day. I was never satisfied with just about anything, and if that ruins a lot of shit for me, then so be it. I’m relatively sure I’ll have something better as a result.