Enough

What’s enough? There’s never enough of anything. Not enough money. Not enough time. Not enough love or life or music. Not enough singing or enough goodbyes. Sometimes I wish for nothing. That I could have nothing and know nothing so that I wouldn’t need anything. Even when “it’s something” it’s still not enough. Sometimes I fantasize about living in the woods, foraging for food, making my own clothes, and sitting around a bon fire. I wouldn’t need company because in the woods, you’re never alone. Sometimes I think back to what it was like 400 years ago when there were no cars, electric bills, or celebrity. Sometimes nothing is easier. Sometimes nothing seems better.