Spent the past 3 months traveling. Sometimes for a week, sometimes for a weekend; either or, it felt good to come back home. Whether it was the comfort of my dog, my bed, or even my solitude; there was a sense of comfort. A sense of "Home". It's weird to say that it's something to look forward to. I wouldn't say it's the loneliness, I would say it's the solitude. There's a sort of peace to gnaw away at yourself and your insecurities. Maybe they'll go away.