Acting. It's what I do, what I've always done. Not just at school, but everywhere I go. Everyday of my life. Acting. Lying. Hiding. Pretending that it'll be okay. But I am not okay. I can't think, can't sleep. It's unjust, what's happened to me, my whole family. Cancer. It's a sick word. I guess it fits in that way. Because Mason looks as sick as that dreaded word feels escaping my tongue. That's why I don't tell anyone. I can't speak of it. As if, if I never talk about it, something in my life will at least feel in place. And I don't what them to feel this worry. Like me. Hoping that the day won't come when he's gone. "Of course he'll be okay," they said. "It only takes time and support" I used to listen. But I can't anymore. Hooked up to a machine, Mason stares into my eyes as I felt the tears dripping down face. Great, I think, I'm losing every shred of dignity that I had before. But how could I care? How can I care about anything else right now, while Mason is how he is. He doesn't understand why I am crying. He says he'll be okay and that one day, he'll be healthy again. Why can't I believe him? Why don't I have the same faith as my brother, my baby brother, looking up at me from the bed that he lies in every night. I miss him. The way he was before… before all of this. Before the bleeding and yelps of pain. Before I became constantly sad and scared. When does it end? Mason sleeps in his bed at night, bald, and prays. When he talks to God, he smiles, as if he is seeing an old friend. When I think of heaven, I imagine a cold, white waiting room, waiting for God just as we are here on Earth. I guess that's the reason that I don't want to believe in all of that, because waiting around seems so depressing. But Mason. Mason has a beautiful vision of what's to come. I love that boy for his dreams. To be an astronaut one day and a firefighter the next. I wouldn't know what I would do if those dreams just left, picked up their bags and checked in at the front desk of the cold, white waiting room. Smiling slightly, he pats the bed next to him and I walk over and lie down beside him, snuggling into his skinny shoulder. He leans his head forward and takes my hand and after squeezing it, he whispers to me. "Have some faith, Eli," he says. "I would never leave you." I feel as if I could fall asleep like this every night. Leukemia