My Friend Matt
Matt was my older brother’s best friend. He was a hero of mine, in the unique way that big brother's friends always are. He was clever, funny, kind and patient.
I think about Matt every time I hear the word ‘irregardless’; I think about the lengthy arguments we all had around campfires about why it was a stupid word and people should just say ‘regardless’.
I think about Matt every time I watch Alan Partridge; particularly the scene where Alan shouts “There’s no fog” it reminds me of road tripping from Sydney to Brisbane with two way radios and a lot of time on our hands... there really was no fog.
I think about Matt when I watch a particularly bad horror film, and I think of the lazy Sundays watching the worst horror films we could find. Human Centipede is still the worst… by a long way.
I think about Matt when I can’t find an aux lead, or a jack to jack cable, or a USB; he always had the right gizmo.
I think about Matt every time an Australian says “How’re you going”, he would never let me live it down that I was once asked this on a plane and replied “Australia”.
I think about Matt when I see a rainbow, or meet someone called Max, or go camping, or listen to Midlake.
These are just a few of my thoughts; and my thoughts are a tiny piece of a map that spreads across continents, it’s a map made up of the thoughts of people who will think about Matt for the rest of their lives.
Matt took his own life in 2015.
Suicide is the biggest killer of men under 45 in the UK.
Things needs to change, or we’ll lose more brilliant men like Matt.
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