Six Kinds of Blue.

I can not for the life of me come to grips on what happened to all of us. It was a mere three years ago when we were inseparable. We would go nowhere without the rest of us. This time of year always brings back the memories. I can clearly remember details as if it happened three minutes ago. I was 16, about to turn 17. Lauren was 15, we were all young. So naive to think nothing would ruin the tight bond we all shared.
As I said, I can remember things clearly. I remember waking up an extra ten minutes early to go pick up Lauren, go to Casey's to get breakfast pizza. We would then drive around eating it while smoking and listening as The Spill Canvas filled my car. We would have the windows down as the cool, fall, morning air brushed our fingertips making them red. We would arrive to school smelling of smoke and not caring. Meeting up with Matt in the hallway before classes started planning what we would be doing that night. Meet at Mike's? Go to the Bridge? The Courts? The Church? Maytag park? It was different, yet the same every night. No one got tired of it, or each other. We were a group of seven or eight kids who had the same views on life and loved living it. My white Buick and Mike's big beat up blue van were our ways of transportation to and from shows every other weekend. Copeland blared from our stereos, we would all sing along with so much energy, almost as if we all knew this friendship was too good to be true.
It was just that, too good to be true. We started to grow apart. Girlfriends disrupted our tight knit group. A few of us matured. Some of us got into trouble. We separated, slowly at first, then it became inevitable, we were no longer best friends. The late nights doing illegal things stopped. Phone calls and text messages became sparse, dwindling down to nothing. What once was, was no longer.
Now, I am left to think about the memories, what was, what could have been,and what is.