I couldn't wait to leave home and moved out when I was 18, having desperately wanted to since I was about 13 or 14. I ended up staying with my parents again for six months when I was 22 to get some money together before I started uni. Funnily enough, it was actually fine, I think because I'd grown up a lot, and my parents had got more used to me doing my own thing.
In spite of always having been fiercely independent (to my own detriment more often than not) I was actually really jealous of all the other (slightly younger) students who got to pop back home for a couple of months when they finished uni last summer. The way it all worked out I had to go flat hunting and move cities and look for jobs pretty much a week after I finished and all I really wanted was to go home to my old room and sleep and maybe have my mum make a nice dinner. 😛 It was strange, because it's almost 10 years since I left home, my dad's filled my old room with junk, and I haven't had any of my stuff there for 5 years. I think I was just really, really tired last summer. 😀