"Hiyaa, Sammy."
He's never really been into the whole setting your soul free-thing.
"It's been awhile since my last note. Sorry. Bobby needed my help and I didn't really have the time, y'know. I think you understand, anyway."
In fact, the first time he wrote it all down on a beer-stained napkin.
"Do you remember that time after we did a salt-and-burn in Massachusetts, I think it was in August or something, and we went to this abandoned field and just sat there? There's an abandoned field near Lisa's, well our house and sometimes I go there."
But now it's just part of his system.
"It doesn't feel the same, though. Sometimes I take Ben and we play some ball. I took Cas once. He tried to understand, but he still doesn't."
It might be unusual and strange to cling to someone this way.
"I cried, last week. Kinda embarrassing, I know. I just woke up in the morning and everything was so clean, and my bed was really soft, and Lisa was there, ya know? Everything was so perfect, like it was supposed to be there."
But everything is unusual and strange, these days.
"Everything's so goddamn perfect, all of a sudden, Sammy. It's just wrong. Because it makes it seem like everything suddenly makes sense when you're gone. And it doesn't. It doesn't, Sammy. It just fucks up things."
She usually leaves him alone when he's writing. She suspects what he's doing, but she never asks.
"It's like you're looking forward to something and then when you get it: it just sucks. This whole life just sucks balls. I don't want it anymore."
She never asks.
"I just want my little brother back."