Old, New, Memory

I recall last year this time around,
Autumn season, winter days.
Cold winds rushing away with haste
I find myself waiting eagerly to move,
Into a place too close, yet a little further down.
Months and months it took for this,
To build right up from the ground.
Covered in whimsy, covered in haze,
Dripping with wonder, that I could taste.
With room to grow, room to improve,
With less judgement and people who frown.
Empty as ever but nothing seemed amiss.

Whispers echoing in the hollow walls
As paint covered the walls blue.
Aquamarine glistening in silver,
Smelling, looking, seeming new.
Far from young, far from old,
I watched as I waited to enter, into
Suffocating paint, as I walked down the halls.
Imagining how it'd look, I guess I always knew.
Soon, I'd expect, packages to deliver,
Furniture, decor, all is waiting, long overdue.
But for now it remained empty, dark and cold,
Soon, I'd find myself here, and prove that untrue.

Long we waited, and excitedly saw,
We purchased little furniture, it seemed enough.
We felt complete, felt okay, with just this
As the paint had dried, fumes disappeared,
We started staying in an empty house, just for fun.
It wasn't perfect, it wasn't how I'd imagined,
Though it felt comfortable with every flaw.
I'd wanted a party to warm the house but it seemed tough,
A year later I recall, my chance, I've missed.
A year later things are identical, as I feared.
I thought it has just started but it was over before it begun.
The walls are now losing colour, so old fashioned.

Now I have no one, no one to visit, no one to let visit.
I can't let people near my disappointing abode.
It was perfect until it wasn't anymore.
I thought it a new beginning,
It was really just a repetition of my old actions.
I change my bed sheets, clean my room
Thinking it would change something, but it remains illicit,
I take for granted everything that is bestowed
Upon myself, I cast it aside to ignore.
A visitor arrived to stay for long, while unknowingly grinning,
I slip in disapproval with every interactions,
Waiting is all I've done, waiting for my life to resume.

I dreamed to design this home,
I wondered about every single corner,
To become something crucial, useful.
I open my eyes to see it fulfilled,
But seeing the rest, i realised that was only fifty percent.
I scratch my chin and tear inside with agony.
My brother doesn't care, as the house he roams,
Accepting it as it is and i say, "so do i brother."
As if i mean it, burning with ideas, looking pitiful.
All I am is a child with ideas, quite unskilled,
With not enough money to even pay rent.
I live in this home, owned by my parents' money.

Everything was perfect until it wasnt,
Everything was new, but then it became old.
Everything smelled fresh, but then it didn't.
I remember so clearly, i reminisce vividly,,
To this day I think back what I could've done.
To make the sky shine, and make the sun shine,
To make my life new, and shine it in my own font
With memories to make, dinners to hold.
With privacy and a place to stay hidden,
People around me started to bond, I stayed timidly.
Others growing fond, while I stay here, ruining the fun.
A place of memory, it may not have become, but I think I'm fine.