Nothing beautiful about how you're sitting in Math class one day, battling sleep and nervousness after your first Third Quarter quiz has just been graded and your Math teacher starts talking about the college student whose body was found by the bridge earlier that morning, hanging by a rope with a school ID and a suicide note. There's nothing beautiful about how she reveals the name and you find out that it's someone you know- someone you considered as an older brother, and one of the people you shared your childhood with. 

There is nothing beautiful about letting time and life in general keep you apart from old friends, how it spreads you into different directions like it always will, only to be reunited by death. You meet each other again under dim light and the sound of worship songs and people crying. No, it's not nice to see you. Not really. Not under these circumstances. Nothing beautiful about thinking of the huge role the father and mother played in this boy's death because of brutally sharp tongues and abandonment, and thinking about how they both deserve the backlash of regret and pain but can't help but feel sorry once the sight of the father sobbing reaches your eyes. Nothing beautiful about the last goodbye you hope to say as you approach the open casket only to realize that you're only saying goodbye to an empty shell. 

You've made it too hard to say goodbye, Kuya.