"They seem to be getting worse."

Ted couldn't look his uncle in the eyes. He hated it, but despite his best efforts, a steady stream of tears flowed from the corner of his eyes. He sniffled and gasped, as he continued to try and fight back the onslaught of ugly sobbing that threatened to, at any second, overtake him.

His uncle had his arm around Ted. "You know, it's not good to hold all that stuff in, right?"

Ted thought about how ridiculous that was. Of course he had to hold it in. It was embarrassing, and only showed weakness. He'd been burned by showcasing his emotions before plenty of times. In school, at home.

Crying wasn't something a guy did, how was that so hard for his uncle to see that? Ted opened his mouth to explain the obvious, but only a wet squeak that was followed by quick breaths came out.

His body almost violently tried to force out his tears. To display his pained wails for the world to see and hear. It had hijacked what he wanted to be a reasonable conversation, and made it unintelligible.

There was nothing he could do, so he just forced his mouth shut, and did what he could to hold back the rest of his body's deep urgings. Although now that he had let it slip out, it was harder to hold back. His entire body was shaking sporadically, as if his limbs could somehow appease the deep wailing his body demanded from him.

Ted's uncle gently rubbed his nephew's shoulder. Then, abruptly stopped. He stood up with a sigh and patted Ted's back a few times on his way up.

"Life isn't easy nephew. It's hard, it's mean. This world will beat you down at every turn whether you like it or not. You'll never truly win those fights..." His uncle paused and walked over to the window. He put his hands on the window sill.

The wood groaned as his shoulder's slumped forward. He almost looked like he was carrying an invisible weight on his back that pressed him down. In that moment, his entire body looked worn out.

He lifted his eyes to look out the window. "It's not about winning those fights. Life is about surviving. Making it to the next fight with enough sense to protect your vital parts so you can recover easier."

His uncle let out a deep sigh as his body sunk even more, like the weight had grown somehow. His eyes lowered down to the window sill he was leaning on. It was old, sturdy.

"But if you don't let yourself recover, those fights will wear on you more and more. Quicker and quicker," his uncle's voice had a tinge of bitterness in it. "You've got to be strong. Plant your feet firmly on the ground and be the strongest man you can be."

Ted was still fighting. He was barely able to hold back, and every now and then a sharp breath, or a slight sob would force its way out.

Finally, his uncle turned around. His eyes had gotten red, and snot ran down his nose and over his mouth all the way to his chin. "You've got to cry. Got to let it out. You're fighting your own body, but it wants to survive with you. That's why it's doing this. Your brain's the thing that..."

His uncle paused as his lips started to tremble slightly. "You've got to work with yourself. Be so strong that crying doesn't break you. Be such a man that sobbing like a child doesn't make you any less manly. Don't hold yourself back, let your body help you heal so you can survive the next fight."

Ted's uncle wiped his eyes and face with his sleeve. But, it only seemed to smear the tears and snot around his face while also making his shirt sleeve wet.

Then, in a flash, his uncle rushed forward and wrapped Ted in a hug. The physical sensation almost made Ted lose control, but he was able to reel in his emotions, to hold them back from exploding with sheer willpower.

But, then his uncle started to cry. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry Ted...I'm sorry..." He kept repeating variations of I'm sorry as his entire body seemed to convulse with each gasp of air.

It was too much. Ted's eyes erupted with fresh streams of tears as he started to almost hyperventilate as incomprehensible sobs went out from his mouth. Ted hated it, despite what his uncle said, he couldn't just let himself cry. And yet, here he was, open, vulnerable, and balling his eyes out like a newborn child who didn't know any better.