Every time I leave this place, it gets harder.

I've always thought of myself as someone who is, by nature, transitory. I've never felt any particularly strong attachment to a location. When I think about the future - on those rare occasions that I allow myself to wander down that path which is equally likely to lead to despair and hopelessness as it is to happiness and excitement - my plans are not attached to any particular location. I don't know where I'm going to be in six months, never mind six years. And I am really okay with that.

Despite this, and without intending to do so, I seem to have put down roots out East. This is only problematic because I did so in a situation that is, by its very nature, temporary.

I know this, and yet, every time I leave this place, it gets harder.