I moved to a completely different part of the country to study at University when I was 18. I couldn't cope with University life at all, and dropped out of my course after just over a year to take up alcoholism instead, before slowly getting my sh*t together a bit. I never considered moving back to my parents', though, even when I was at my lowest ebb. I still live in the same University city now, thirty years later, though further out on the fringes where life is quieter and I have countryside close by.
I've never been one for close family ties, and my family was never very close-knit and is spread thinly across the country; my few good school friends all left our original native town, too; and I much prefer the people and lifestyle here in Yorkshire. My parents still live in the house where I was mostly raised, but I never think of it as "home", and it always felt odd to be asked if I'm "coming home" for Xmas etc. As a renter who's now moved house over 20 times since leaving my parents' home, I don't really think of myself as having a "home"; it's just a practical necessity that I need a quiet refuge from the world, but I never get attached to or nostalgic for anywhere that I've lived, aside from a vague sense of feeling that living in Yorkshire suits me much better than my native town.
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When you are fighting an invisible monster, first throw a bucket of paint over it.