Homesickness. Sudden, unexpected and absolute. It fucking sucks. I hear that travel and striking out on your own builds your experience and your character. Change is good. Without change there would really be nothing to look forward to; a sun that never sets, a night that never comes. Without change, that light would never turn green, you would never leave your desk, and 5 PM would never show its happy hour face.
Why then the attachment to the old, the familiar? The resistance to change? Your guess is as good as mine.
Enough with the goth mope, change is at hand.*
*This bumming diatribe of bitter herbs and spices brought to you by the letter O and the number 42.
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