but they're just old light

I have a story. I feel insecure. And I don't know why.

This is my first christmas alone. My first Christmas apart from the context of family. I decided that the only place I would find an inherant sense of healing, of solitude, this Christmas was here, in my new home in Abbotsford. I am alone. I am an Island.

I don't think this time alone is working all that well. I wonder if trying to force the thought of home on this house is worth a shit. ...If trying to force this house to somehow feel like a place where my shoulders aren't tense makes a difference. Where does one find a sense of love? a sense of living in that love and feeling fine?

deep sigh. Day two of my first Christmas as an adult. I like to think this life is progressive, and I'm not going to feel lost entirely by next year. I've said it before- one of these days I'll find what I'm looking for.

(I'm not sure what I'm looking for).

I'll leave this on a more positive note, something with a deep comfort: love is...