Earlier this year, I decided to take the plunge and move TF out of my childhood home.

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It was super exciting at the time. My house was always kind of packed, and ever since my parents divorced when I was super young, I never actually felt like I had a real home of my own.

So moving out was the perfect solution. I'd have my own space - and my own place, too.

And, like I said, at first I was super excited. The thrill of finally having a place to call my own was kind of blinding me to the fact that I actually hate living by myself.

Who knew, right?

But honestly, living alone was making me depressed AF. I'd actively avoid going to my apartment, because whenever I was there, being all alone was way too much for me to handle.

It's something you just don't think about when you come from a house filled with people. When you live alone, you wake up and there's no one there; you eat dinner and there's no one there; anything you do, you're doing all by yourself.

I'm way too social for that life, TBH.

So because of that - and a couple of other reasons, too - I decided to move myself TF back home.

Some people I've spoken to think that I'm actually losing in life because I'm going back home.

But not me.

I'm actually pretty proud that I lived this experience. At least now I know what I don't want, and I know that the next time I move out, it'll be with roommates or a friend or a significant other... just not by myself.

Plus, there's absolutely no shame in going back to where you came from. In my mind, you should do whatever you need to do to be happy. This is just what I need to do for me; and, hey, if you think moving yourself back home will make you happy, too, then go for it. Do you. Live your best life.


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