No. I can't say that I am. How can I be satisfied when there's still so much that needs to be done? So many people that need help? So much death and pain and sadness in the world? There will always be work to be done and not enough time to do it. And a piece of me is still missing. Who was I before the Big Death? Where was my home? Why can't I remember? Until I find the answers, I don't think I can ever be satisfied with my life.