There is now a concrete outline of what used to be a house which played a huge part in my life and my personality. This house was filled with memories that I will never forget no matter how hard I try. The things we did were stupid but it gave me memories that I will occasionally think about and laugh, and it will help me remember my friends that helped me feel more human and more like a teenager.

My friend's father purchased an old abandoned house at the edge of his property about two years ago but only for the land, when my friend asked if the house could stay for a place for him and all the other group members to just hangout. This old house had faded white paint with creaking, splintered hardwood floors and all the original furniture in it including the couch and the chair. We would always sit there and, well, be stupid. It really surprises me that none of us got ourselves killed by how stupid the things we did were.

There were five group members including me. We each had a nickname for each other and there was a reason why we called them that. There was Frost who was called that because of his deep blue eyes and his blond hair, Ishy who was called that because he seemed to act like a baby sometimes and that was the name his dad called him when he was a baby, Scritch who was called that because he would scratch and itch whenever he became anxious, mine was Tweak because I would become restless and twitchy whenever I became anxious, and only one friend did not have a nickname so we would sometimes call him No Name. We were all good friends but sometimes we would have anger slips to where we would argue very loudly or even fight in the house. All are old memories that I have tried to pry out of my head but as I have withdrawn myself from that group I do not want to lose those memories because they provide me with happiness whenever I'm feeling down and I realized that they play a huge part in my personality.

***

Two years ago we first walked into that house and wandered around both upstairs and downstairs looking and judging in our minds this old, creaky house that was now going to be our little hideout. Scritch was with me and we went through each room on the upper level of the house. Each room was a different faded color and had the old furniture of beds, dressers, and old clothes from the nineteen seventies which we left in the dressers because we didn't want to bother anything that was in a personal room even if it was never used anymore. As we walked around upstairs we passed rotting wood and decided that the upstairs was a dangerous place and we should avoid it and just sit downstairs in the living room because it had all we needed. We sat in the living room on the couches and chairs and talked about what we wanted to do. Whether we were going to the mall to harass some friends, going to Wal-Mart to act stupid, or sitting there and arguing with one another and occasionally fighting all of our decisions of what we should do were made there.

As the house aged so did we, the strong bonds we had slowly fell apart along with the house. We became a little more violent against one another and we became more like idiots as we made bad choices. We still hung out at the old house but by two more years later the upstairs and basement had fell apart and was extremely dangerous to try to go onto either level of the house. We would always sit in the living room and talk but now it seemed as the house fell apart so did we, whenever we talked anymore it was yelling at someone else and calling him names and threatening him until the other got tired of it and we decided to fight. Whoever the two were that would fight would shoot up off their seats and get in each others faces yelling and harassing tempting the other to take the first swing. The others would just sit and cheer them on but when it got bad enough they would stop them. It just felt good to get rid of some of your anger by fighting.
***

When one day we sat together the house creaked in the wind and for once everyone was quiet nobody was arguing or threatening, it was all just quiet except for the creaking of the house. We all seemed sad for some reason and then the silence broke, “remember when Ishy fought No Name and slammed him into the wall?” asked Frost. Light hushed laughter stirred in the room along with Scritch asking, “remember when I fought Tweak and he broke the old coffee table?” Once again hushed laughter followed by me chuckling saying, “Okay dude that was your fault you didn't have to throw me, that was a good table too.” The laughter started to pick up then died back down again. “What happened?” asked Frost, then it hit him, “Did you guys realize that this is the first time we have talked and not fought each other in a long time?” We all looked around and figured out he was right. But little did we know that this was also the last time that we would ever talk in a group like that.

We got back at it again the next time we hung out fighting and threatening each other. It just seemed as the house became older and fell apart we did the same. One day I threatened Frost over a stupid argument and he replied, “I am not fighting you Tweak, all of you are crazy idiots who can't get your s*** together!” He left and never came back that was the last time I ever saw or heard from him. Ishy and all of them told me that Frost never paid them any attention anymore and when they tried to get his attention he just turned and walked away. I felt horrible for driving a friend out of our group. But it seemed like a thing that we did when we hung out; we argued, it escalated, and we fought. It was over the most stupid things too, but we were all messed up.
***

Later that year I had someone important come into my life and I told myself it would be for the best if I quit what I was doing and didn't hang out with the group anymore. I separated myself from them and shortly after I heard that the group disbanded and the house was burnt down. I felt bad because I blamed myself for a little bit of what had happened. I ditched the people who, despite the fights and arguing, made me have fun with my life. This did eat at me a little bit but I always told myself that it was not my fault and for the benefit of the relationship and for me I needed to stop being around them.

About a couple months after I left them I got a call from Scritch's brother he talked casually and then let me know what happened. Scritch was put in a “troubled teen program” for his use of drugs and his high depression and anxiety. About a month after the program started he was tired of people trying to change him I assume and shot himself. His brother let me know that he had passed on but did not give me a date or location of the funeral or anything, he just told me that Scritch was dead and that he was sorry during my long silence on the phone. Then he hung up. I felt like I had been gut punched with a sledgehammer, Scritch my probably the only one who was closest to an actual best friend. I remembered that the house was burnt down and I wondered if that was him maybe because he didn't want to remember it whenever he drove by No Name's house or something but it was not the only thing that went up in flames for our group had fell apart and so did some of the lives of the people that were in it.