I hunt and hunt, like I’m supposed to, doing what I’m built for. Searching for the next dose of satisfaction, with the last morsel still in my mouth, only halfway chewed. Having slept, drank, and doused all the other flames of desire, I have only left to hunt, lest I become idle. First a squirrel, then a rabbit, and finally a deer. My belly is full, but I am not yet tired. I eat until I am sick. I try to sleep but cannot. I think myself into an anxiety. And then I chase my own tail all the way back to the present, and repeat the mantra that was taught to me: I am safe. I am healthy. I am happy. I am grateful.