Every time I leave London I have to leave the nest I've made into "home" for the trip. Giving up my last place was the hardest I've dealt with in a while, as it had been  my home for a long time- the longest time I stayed in one place in more than a year. I had painted the walls, making them really mine in a way I hadn't had in a while. But circumstances combined, and instead of being able to move back as planned, I had to find somewhere new.

Thankfully, I got very lucky and found another East London place- and this one ends up being slightly easier for me to get to the boy's house, along with my KSL duties and other things. I liked it because it was near a canal, and my housemates are absolutely lovely, but I only just got the furniture in to transform it from "place where my stuff is" to "home". Tuesday night I slept alone for the first time in 3 months, surrounded by luggage overflowing with stuff and it was awful. Now everything's put away, tidy. And now I feel... safe again. Settled. For now, sure, but I look around my room and it feels like mine.

Stability is a luxury sorely missed when you live in two different countries. The back and forth may seem fun to those not doing it, but every time you move, you have to restart. You have to rekindle friendships, resume flirtations, redecorate, even rediscover yourself and your place in it all. It can be really overwhelming, but also hugely powerful- I credit my back-and-forth with a lot of self growth and individual confidence. I've learned a lot.

Thanks, readers, for learning along with me.