starving for...
Sometimes I feel like I have anorexia and bulimia of the soul. It changes with the seasons.

In the summer my life is so full of self-indulgence, so hedonistic that it makes me sick and bored and I just want to purge it all back up and find something to do that has meaning has a point it it.

Then, in the fall the balance shifts. I'm usually happy for a while, for a very short interval, before I become completely alienated from myself, from my leisure, restricting the core of my being down to a very seed where it cowers until spring. I starve myself for attention, for a moment's peace. I'm too involved to breathe. Usually this erupts into a smothering depression, a grey cement that binds my soul in a hardened shell and attempts to smother the little seed.

Then I get over it when the sun comes out and the end is near.

I guess I'm seeking balance too.