you were my best friend for a while, all those (thirteen) years ago, although you were never much of a friend at all. the fact that we were friends was more of a happenstance of your house being on the way to mine from school. we walked together because we had no better options, not because either of us really wanted to. we played music at your house because we were both terrible, and we knew no-one else who could play better. we played football in a group of mutual friends. but otherwise, we were as remote as is possible for two "best" friends living within a five minute walking distance of each other. i now have four or five friends i would count as being closer than you were, and i know this fact wouldn't have surprised or upset you at all, even back then.

ironically, the only thing i really have to thank you for was the most fucked up thing you could have done. you stopped talking to Becky, the person outside your family who cared for you the most; left her for dead, for God knows why. i have no doubt whatsoever that i kept that girl alive by filling the hole you left, talking to her and listening to her, while she tried to cope with the loss. i have no doubt whatsoever that i had four-and-a-half years of being best friends with - and three-and-a-half years of being completely in love with - the most perfect girl the world has ever known, purely because you didn't want to talk to her anymore. maybe you had your reasons - you were always a very pragmatic person - but you never cared to share with me if you did. and now i'll never know.

so, thanks, Mat, in a weirdly twisted way. you gave me my oh-so-short but oh-so-sweet glimpse of what perfection really looks like. you made me laugh; you made me cry (figuratively). i hadn't spoken to you since secondary school. no-one deserves to die of cancer, and certainly not at twenty-six years old. i hope you're now at peace. i'll be thinking of you, during your funeral.