It’s almost a joke how unreal funerals are. You stand there and look down at someone who is unreal and never existed; these people, these people you don’t even know, assume that they know the dead person and make them into someone who doesn’t exist.
They changed my brother on the day of his funeral. Shifted him into a boy who I didn’t even know. He wasn’t the kid with the floppy messy brown hair anymore, or the skater boy, or the kid always getting into trouble; he was the good boy, the proper boy in a good suite with slicked back hair. They changed him into the “perfect” kid.
People were shifting my brother into something he’s not even after death.
And people wonder why he decided to kill himself?