so this is living.

so this is living.
doing what I need to be doing.
living in empty rooms,
filled with the sad and dying memories
of those who were here before.
knowing nothing else but what I need to believe in.
to hold onto,
or to let go.
knowing that I will never be happy,
until love,
no matter what form that it takes,
has finally found me.
it is all good.
so it goes.
press on regardless.