More, More, More

I continue to be introspective. Who needs a therapist?

I have realized that I am very hard to satisfy. I always want more.

If I have a cupcake, I want two. Or four. Or nine. If I buy a dress, I want shoes. If I drink a Diet Coke, I need a refill. If I start watching a TV show, I need to watch six episodes. If I lose two pounds, I wish I had lost three. If my night is amazing, I never want it to end. If I'm drunk, I want to be drunker, if I'm high, higher, happy, happier, sad, sadder. I can never get enough.

I think this is why I let myself get sucked into these weeks of depression. If I'm going to be sad and self-destructive, I might as well go all out and be as terrible as I can possibly be. I can't just mess up once, I have to fuck up so royally, create such a clusterfuck of awful that it's nearly impossible to pull myself back up.

And it's hard for me to be in the moment. I'm always thinking towards the next thing, what's coming up, what do I have to do or change or be. Even in moments of pure entertainment or pure relaxation, I find my mind moving towards what comes later, even if it's not something I look forward to.

The future is always in the back of my mind.

There could always be more.

I don't know why I'm like this. It manifests itself it good ways, sure, but in so many negative ones too. I need to find out why I'm so hard to please, why I'm always sure that more is better, that more will make me happier. I know it won't. I know that consciously. But it doesn't really help.

These are just my thoughts. I'm going to chew on them a bit.

Tasty.