Growing up, I lived in a pretty strict household. Actually, even once I was grown (at least in the eyes of the state), I lived in a pretty strict household. And I do mean strict. I was the bitch at 25 racing home to beat a midnight curfew.
Like I said, strict.
Now despite all of that, I am thankful and truly blessed for my upbringing–I could not have dreamed of better people to have raised me and help me become everything good in me that I am today.
But like a bird, eventually you must fly out and explore your own path. So that’s what I did.
And now after almost a year into my journey, things recently came to a screeching brake slam upon being asked to move back home.
I’m known sometimes to pop off at the mouth before thinking and not giving the classiest of answers, so before giving a clear one, I really had to sit down and put some thought into this shit.
Moving back home would be awesome to
have more money to spend on pointless shit be more responsible and save money, but when everything is said and done I would be giving up the life I’d come to know in the past year…..