I spent the first seventeen years *minus about 9 months* in one home, then my family moved. In the move, I ended up losing contact with some of my best friends. I got married, but the place with him wasn't home... I was more stressed when I walked in the door than I was on my way to a shitty job. Spent a month in a dorm while the girl who lived there was in Germany, then in with parents for a couple weeks, got in a fight with my dad over my divorce (It was all my fault that the marriage ended... says he) so I moved in with friends... still not home. I FINALLY have a home, even though it's not MINE (We rent) with my honey, the love of my life, where FINALLY I relax the instant I'm in the door, no matter what's going on. I love my home
