Home...

Yet again I have decided to come home. I find it interesting that the sole purpose that I keep coming home is to ultimately keep getting more and more ink done on my tattoos. I always talk to my tattoo artist to make sure he is going to be free and in town before I even book the tickets to come back. Everyone that truly could claim to know me why I never want to return home if I could help it, but that is a different topic for a different time. I always appreciate coming home to the most loving, caring, sincere friends that a person could ask for. I feel like there is no guard up when I am around them. They are the few people that have seen me hit bottom emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and yet they are the ones that show me the most interest in my life and treat me almost how I would envision members of a non-dysfunctional family would treat each other. I love my real family and would really do anything for them, but, for the most part, we deal better thousands of miles apart, with the exception of the brother that has been a blessing having in somewhat close proximity to me. Getting older and older is causing my friends and I to keep moving further in terms of distance, yet closer to terms of endearment. I hope that never changes....