You decided it would be a brillant move to move out of your childhood home when you were 18 because you were "an adult ready to take on the world"

Then you get out there and quickly recognize that you've made a grave mistake. Being an adult/huma ain't easy.

So you count down the days till you get to go home.

When that glorious day finally rolls around, you get off the plane and run in to your family's arms like you haven't actually been falling apart the last few months.

You enjoy all the amenities. The endless supply of free food, free laundry usage, people that love you no matter how weird you really are. (Like really weird.)

And then your parents/family spoil you and take you shopping, out to eat and to get your nails done.

But then you see your friends posting pictures of stuff going on back in your town and you get serious FOMO.

So you enjoy your last few days at home but then start packing your bag, excited to go back.

The time has come and leaving comes with a bittersweet feeling. You tell your family you love them and then head off.

Then you get back and you miss your family all over again. The cycle never stops but that's okay cause this is life and you got this.