Nobody puts baillee in the corner

To say I knew Matt well would be an overstatement and to say I knew him really well would be an outright lie. We only hung out a handful of times, but he was one of those people who make a giant impact on your life during the brief time they’re here.

I loved Matt because he was simultaneously simple and complex. He hated wearing shirts and loved pudding, but he said some of the most beautiful and profound things. Most of them you never hear in your lifetime, let alone from a teenager. From the mouths of babes, I guess. I’m not going to go into specific details about Matt’s background because it wouldn’t be right but just know the kid was a hell of a survivor.

There was one particular night with Matt that constantly fights its way to the top of my memory. I remember it down to the color of his shorts (khaki). One of my friends was giving Matt grief because he was walking around the house shirtless. I channeled my inner Christina and quoted the famous line from “Beautiful” which has grazed motivational posters and MySpace header quotes alike, “You are beautiful, no matter what they say.” My friend responded with “Matt, that’s what ugly people say.” Although in retrospect it was juvenile, I narrowed my eyes, flipped the friend off, and headed upstairs to hang out with Matt.

Matt stretched out on his bed the bottom of a bunk bed which looked like Fisher Price’s attempt at Ron Swanson with it’s seemingly delicate carved wood pieces, while I opted to sit on the edge. Matt looked at me with old, soulful eyes and said, “Baillee, you are beautiful and smart and funny and kind. If others can’t see that, screw them. You don’t need them. You’re also very unique, and you shouldn’t ever lose that.” While I mostly remember all the flattering things he mentioned (like I said, he was smart for his age), they aren’t what haunt me. The following quote did: “Fear the norm. We aren’t meant to be like everyone else, hence why we’re all unique.” It took me 20 years to learn this lesson, and it took someone who didn’t remember when MTV didn’t have The Hills of Jersey Shore Made Teen Moms to teach me.

The next time I saw Matt, I had come back from college and headed straight for the friend’s house he was staying with. I found him shirtless, in the same khaki shorts nonetheless, playing video games, and he gave me a giant hug as soon as I walked through the door. I remember getting the most authentic feeling from him. I knew he was genuinely happy to see me, and it’s tear-jerking to type it because it doesn’t feel fair to relive that moment without him here. I only saw Matt a few more times. The rest of our talks were goofy and random. We decided there should be an international pudding day. We bonded over his hated of wearing shorts and mine of pants. When I hung out with him, he was always beaming with happiness or at the very least, satisfied with the moment.

When I found out, I was stuffing a pinata full of candy for a Residence Life event. It made me realize how trivial some of the things in my life were in comparison. I tried to pretend the phone call hadn’t happened, and it was all a terrible delusion brought on by finals woes and the twelve pounds of candy I had eaten. I remember when it finally hit me. I remember the rough feeling of brick against my back as I slid down a wall while two of my friends knelt beside me. It was like someone blew out one of the candles lighting my life.

I still haven’t fully forgiven myself for missing his funeral. It fell during finals week, and I couldn’t, despite being a total hellion, get my final moved. I spent most of the week in a haze, and I wound up wearing what I would have worn to the funeral to my final. I’m so glad I had my St. Ed’s family looking out for me and bringing me coffee and food because I felt lost.

Before Matt, I had only had one other friend pass away. Her name was Kelly, and she was beautiful and smart and passionate, and I looked up to her during Campfire. I remember her vigil and how another friend’s mom fell to the ground crying because she felt like a piece of her heart had been ripped out. I was 14 and so, so naive. It opened my eyes to my own mortality and how fragile life really is.

A year before Matt, my community lost Lena, who I can tell from her impact on others and from what I’ve been told, was pretty and kind and funny and intelligent. I barely knew her, but she meant a great deal to a lot of people. I tried to provide as much support as I could because when those I love hurt, it makes me hurt too.

I don’t feel like Matt was ever truly meant for this earth. He was too wise and compassionate. I never saw him get aggravated or genuinely displeased. He was always both full of life and stoic. I can’t believe it’s already been two years. I feel like so much has happened in all of our lives, and there are so many things I would love to get his opinion on. If he was so insightful about silly, rude comments, I want to know what he would say about the people who berate my tattoos or different colored lipsticks. I would love to hear his input about my current job. More importantly, I would love to hear his views on college and working and traveling, how he graduated high school and started his own adventures. I would do anything to hear what he said when I finally fell in love. But he sadly wasn’t destined for it; he was destined for something bigger than us all.

I still can’t totally say goodbye to you, Matt. You were only in my life for a short time, but my God, did you ever influence and shape my life. You are one of the many puzzle pieces in my strange and beautiful life that led me one step close to who I am supposed to be, so I can’t say goodbye to you, Matt. Instead, I’ll see you soon, kid. Be sure to save a Snack Pack for me.