My Best Friend

My imaginary friend’s called Matt. He’s helped me through some tough times. We’re both sixteen and he’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember. When we were five he made me feel better when my cat died. When we were eleven we went to secondary school together and he stopped me feeling too bad when the bullies beat me up. Any tough time in my life he was there, helping and supporting me. No matter what I do he’s always been there, always on my side. Matt’s the greatest.

A couple of years ago I was taken to a psychiatrist. My behaviour at school had changed; from a shy, quiet little boy I had become a violent, moody teenager. I know it seems like so what? That’s what teenagers are like huh? But it’s different in my case. I was, still am sometimes, worse than a normal teenager. It all started in third year when I turned fourteen.

I had been getting bullied ever since I started secondary. I was picked on because I was ‘different’ from the other kids. I liked listening to different music, I dressed differently and, probably the biggest reason, I thought differently. I’m sure there were others similar in the school who I probably would have got on well with but sadly I didn’t have the good fortune to meet any of these people.

On the first day of my new school I was ecstatically excited. I couldn’t wait. That morning I woke up, leaped out of bed and ran for my new clothes. They were awesome; black and yellow DCs, some of the baggiest black jeans I could find and of course the mandatory black shirt and tie. Over that I wore my beloved Nirvana top. “How do I look Matt?” I asked, running a hand through my bright red spiky hair.

“You look cool Darran, very nice mate.” He replied.

I grinned and ran through to show my mum, who was in the kitchen making breakfast, she smiled at me, handed over my packed lunch, and said softly, “Have a nice day at school.”

“I will mum! Bye!” I raced out the front door, picking up my freshly prepared Animal schoolbag on the way. Matt stayed alongside me as we bounded along the street, overjoyed to be going to the fabled secondary school finally.

As soon as I got into my classes all the excitement changed into fear and dismay as the other boys, with their unshakeable confidence and the simple cruelty of children, began to ridicule me. It started with my clothes and my hair, no one else had anything like the same as me and I felt like an outcast instantly. I sat myself in a corner and tried to block out their teasing, talking to Matt to get me through the shock. That did it, quite possibly the worst thing I ever did was talk to Matt around these little bastards. “Who ye talkin tae ya fuckin freak?”

“There’s nobody there man, whit ur ye, a psycho?”

I drew up all my courage and with Matt there beside me, managed to reply, “I was talking to my friend.”

“Who the fuck’s yer friend? You don’t hiv any friends ye wee cunt.”

“He’s invisible, I’m the only one who can see him.” Oh yeah, that was smart, what the hell was I thinking? Jesus Christ. I was an idiot. Of course they all laughed their heads off and from then on I was either bullied and taunted or left completely alone. Except for Matt of course.

I used to just take their crap, try to sink into the background and disappear, but not anymore, not since that day. I had just turned fourteen the previous month and I was feeling cool, feeling old if you will. Some guy had had a bad day and decided to take it out on me. I saw it coming a mile off as I had become able to do. I got set to try and get away, to escape with minimum damage, but Matt stopped me. “Dude, don’t you dare run, you know he’ll catch you.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “but what else can I do?”

“Come on Darran, you’re older now, you’re stronger, you can take this guy!” He said it with such conviction I was forced to agree and I fixed the young man walking towards me with a glare.

“Fuck off. I hate you.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that to him. He couldn’t believe it either; he blinked a few times then came straight for me. I remembered what my dad had taught me when I was eight years old: “Any time anyone comes to fight you, stamp on their foot as hard as you bloody well can then stick your head right in their face, works every time.”

I tried this technique for the first time in my life and to my surprise, it worked, the kid went down like a tonne of bricks. I just stood there and stared at him, and then I was grabbed by one of the teachers and hauled off to an office. I don’t think it helped my case much that I just kept repeating, “He went down…I actually won a fight…I won!”

That’s when it all changed, I wasn’t afraid anymore. I knew I could stand up for myself. Unfortunately, this wasn’t exactly a change for the better. I got extremely violent. It was like all the past torment was making me worse. I started carrying knives around everywhere and starting fights with anyone. Even in school, if someone looked at me strangely I just flew for them. I had no control. It was insane. Matt didn’t help calm me down, he urged me on and every night I’d have long conversations with him about the best guy to go for tomorrow. That’s why I got referred to a counsellor who, after a few sessions, suggested I try a psychiatrist. It was awesome; I loved it. Everyone was scared of me and I liked it, they thought I was insane but now I didn’t mind. I didn’t give a shit about anything anymore, it was weird but that one incident changed my entire outlook on life. I remember walking into my modern studies class one day, headphones blaring as I sang along extremely loudly to the magnificent ‘Anti-Flag’, “You gotta die, gotta die, gotta die for your government, die for your country, that’s shit!” The teacher kicked ass, she said,

“I’m glad you’re feeling so strongly about politics, it’s perfect for this class, now sit down in your damn chair and shut up!” Then went on with teaching the class. She was the best.

Soon enough, I was getting involved with police and everything. It was all going downhill. Suddenly Matt changed his tune to help me once more. “Dude, it’s fucked. This was fun but you don’t wanna end up in jail getting raped in the shower do you?” I laughed. “Look, I know it sounds funny but it’s not really. You have to stop. If someone says something to you by all means kick their head in but you’re heading towards serious shit buddy. I don’t know if I can be a part of that.”

That’s what shocked me. Matt had been around forever, what would I do without him? I started listening to the people trying to help me. I got more control over my actions again. Everyone was so proud of me. Through all of it I never stopped feeling like crap but because of Matt I managed to make it. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had and the best friend I will ever have. I love him. Some people think I’m crazy but I don’t think I am. Matt exists; I talk to him, I have important discussions with him and he helps me. If you can’t understand that then it’s your problem, having a friend that’s always yours and you know will never leave you or do anything to hurt you is the greatest. Remember that.