I don't own a happier home

I never invited friends over, at least during grade school. I thought my yard had too many weeds and the house was too small. It was full of love but not full of things. The things that I thought would make me happy. I kept to myself in the room that I shared pondering a life I wasn’t living. Even now I look up to a life that I could have. I don’t own these walls that I call home, closer to not calling it that than owning ten of them. Now, with so many people in my corner, I still wonder why I can’t consider this a happy home.