Something is missing. Again. Don't ask me what. Spiritual thirst. An absence eluding description. Striving to trace its outline with my fingers in the darkness. I fail. I always do.

Normally it's a relief to blame it on all things unattainable. Say it is them I require to feel complete. I'd be satisfied, if only I could get that flat, that job, that person... Maybe I'm spoiled and ungrateful; perhaps I suffer from low self-confidence, and hence the assumption that nothing I manage to get hold of can be good enough.

But what if there's more going on behind the scenes? What if I’m distracting myself? Diverting my attention to what remains out of reach, so I won't have to admit that my hunger is simply insatiable. It has no answer, it has no cure. I was born with a hole somewhere in my mind. What I truly seek does not exist; it never did.

Comforting as it might be to interpret my sense of lack as the need for communication, freedom or creation, deep inside I am fully aware of its true nature. And, sometimes, I wonder, will I ever reach something resembling inner peace? Will I learn to live with this constant longing; will I eventually grow out of it? Or will I die as I've lived, greedy, dissatisfied, restless?