never enough

I suppose that’s why Jane Seymour is hawking her atrocious jewelry with that fake sincere melodramatic sappy story about her mom (the kind Americans lap up with no other possible explanation than gross stupidity), at Kay Jewelers. I don’t want this to be true. That it’s never enough. My privations have so far given me reasonable allowance to believe happiness will be in my grasp one day. If I can just get enough. But it never will be.