Longing

When is enough ever enough? Is constant unsatisfaction what keeps us going? I find myself having this conversation with myself over and over again.
Is it me who always wants more? Or are things really not up to standards?
I hate myself sometimes. I hate myself for my discontentment, for this restless longing. I wish I had a way of knowing if I'm the one who's wrong or if things are really not worth it.
I feel like I'm walking on a limbo, an inch away from falling through. There are moments when this anguish takes over me, frustration for what was and no longer is.
I miss afternoons with the glow of the setting sun surrounding me in a craddle of happiness, of the sense of peacefulness and safety I felt inside. I felt so big and confident. Now i'm just unsure.
As I read through this all I see is "I...", "me...", and it makes me feel so selfish. I wonder if it's really altruism what keeps me around or fear, cowardice. My opinion of myself as long degraded.
I wish I could get back that feeling, those feelings, now I always feel like I'm bellow expectations.
I feel this cold, this emptiness in me, and I feel like it is never going away. I just know it deep down. I knew it then as I know it now that things would never be the same, but knowing isn't enough.
I just need to fix this before I drive myself miserable. But alas, it's easier said than done.