New in Town

So, so much tension, and I'm not quite ready to release it all. But I found a high place from which to look over the valley. The beauty of the evening sun reflecting off the lake makes the western mountains hazy as they hover ominously in various shades of gray. It almost makes me glad to be here. From my outlook, I can see the water of the lake rippling in the evening wind, and I am amazed that I am able to see it from this distance.
Looking out on this beautiful scene, surrounded by wild sunflowers, scrub oak, and a few young fir trees, I again wonder what I am doing living in this valley. Not for the first time, I feel uneasy - like this isn't really my life. But as I hear the bells of the nearby religious university, I have to chage my word. I am not uneasy, exactly. It is more discomfort, living in this place where I don't fit.
I suppose it is unreasonable to think that after scacely two weeks there would be anyone welcoming me with open arms, but I feel the absence of such a welcome very keenly. A long time friend - one of two I know in this area - has welcomed me, and my dear friends at home have encouraged me and wished me luck, but it seems that no one here has any room in their lives for a newcomer.
I don't really wonder why I have avoided this place, and it is probably my own fault that I don't fit in. I probably wouldn't feel so alone here if I were a student away from home for the first time. That four-year period called college was a time in my life I will never forget and for which I will never cease to be grateful. It was a safe place between childhood and full-fledged adulthood. My one purpose - to obatin my degree - overshadowed the reality of the uncertainty of adult life - a life that is still as indistinct as the mountains which are now before me.
I am not here for a college experience that will prepare me for the rest of my life. I am a professional, and it seems the only certainty in my life is my profession. I moved here to be closer to my work, and from 5 am to 5 pm I don't worry too much about what to do with myself or my time. In my after 5 pm world, I wonder what to do, where to go, and who to talk to.
Writing has been a joy, as has playing my piano. But what is there to write about and who is there to write to when no one reads what I write and the few who do may not even care? What is music without friends to share it with? What, exactly, is the purpose of a life that is other-oriented when there are not others around which to orient?
I suppose therein lies my discontent and the answer to it. Can I become a complete person on my own? Do I really need friends close by to talk to and share companionship with? Can I just write and sing alone, with no feedback and no synergy to move the processes forward?
I say the answer is no. I certainly need people. But maybe I should look for people who need me, rather than being concerned about the people I think I need.
The sun is lower now, almost touching the top of the least distant of the Western mountains. This hillside begins to be filled with voices and friendly conversation. If I were a different person, I might try starting a conversation or joining one. But people don't come here to meet new friends, and it is too late to begin the hike I was contemplating when I stopped here. My own friends wouldn't like me hiking alone in the dark, so to my house I go, wishing it were home.