Leaving Home...all over again.

It's like having your heart broken at least twice a year and always around the holidays.

I can't even explain how horrible this feels- the night before I fly back to Utah. I think it's been dozens of times now that I've done this, and it never, ever gets easier. it starts the first night I'm home. As I'm going to bed, I think "This isn't going to last. It never lasts." And I feel the first pang of heart break. But then I remember my mom telling me that a truly happy person is happy no matter where they are, and so I try to push away the dread of going back to Utah that I already feel and try to just enjoy the time I have with my family. But it always comes back to bite me, because while I'm blissfully spending time at home, the clock just keeps racing towards the end. No matter what I do, how hard I try to ignore it, it still comes. Every, single, time. And before I know it, here I am again- crying in the dark, waiting, inevitably, for morning to come and take me away.

And I just get to do it again, and again, for two more years.