i'm moving again. 9th time in just over 6 years. i'm pretty damn sick of it. and this one has me a bit torn. i'm moving home again. to live with my parents pretty much indefinitely for the first time in more than 12 years. part of me wants this. i'm so lonely in my own apartment right now, living with someone that i don't know very well and with whom i don't have a whole lot in common. it will be nice to wake up and share breakfast with people i love. and to have someone i can talk to when i get home in the evening. but i'm already missing my own place, the small semblance of having a "real" life that i do have. there is a part of me that clings to having my own place, where i express my own tastes and wants and needs. but one of the costs of that right now is not sharing that place with someone i love. so which do i sacrifice? i don't know. thus the experiment. maybe i'll be back in my apartment in three months. maybe i won't. one thing i do know is that i need to let my hunger for my own, more settled life fire my efforts to finish my degree. the sooner it's done, the sooner i can actually start building my own place in this world, a place that hopefully will feel less transitional.