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"Don't cry, Dean, big boys don't cry."
That's what Dad told me when I was seven and woke up sobbing from a nightmare filled with fire and a glimpse of a blonde woman pinned to the ceiling.
"Don't cry, Sammy, big boys don't cry."
That's what I told Sam when he was twelve and we had to leave yet another town behind. This time, Sam had to leave a friend behind too.
So we hurt, but we suffer in silence. We are filled with anguish, yet we cannot mourn. We are big boys now, and we don't cry.
Dad's not here anymore. I lost Sammy too. I sold my soul. Then Sammy lost me.
Now I'm back, but I'm still lost. Helpless and alone, my restless sleep interrupted by endless nightmares. The things I've done... I can't take it anymore, but big boys don't cry.
Sammy's changed too. I think maybe I've still lost him. He hides from me. He won't let me in. He lies to me.
I lie awake at night, waiting for the soft click of the motel door to signal my wayward brother's return.
All I want to do is scream and sob, maybe then he'd listen to me, but big boys don't cry.
I'm so tired of everything. Everything that matters to me is slipping away, and I don't want to be a big boy anymore. I just want to cry.
