Let Big Boys Cry

They say men should be strong,

but nobody tells you how heavy strength can get.

Nobody teaches you how to carry a heart that bleeds in silence, or how to swallow your own tears when your chest is already full.

Hard days don’t knock, they just walk in,

drop their weight on your shoulders,

and dare you to pretend you’re fine.

They don’t care if you’re young or grown, soft or hardened by life.

Sometimes, life hits you so hard

you forget what breathing feels like.

You sit there, staring at nothing, wondering how something that felt right a moment ago can suddenly taste bitter in the air around you.

And in that moment, you remember you’re a “big boy.”

So you bite your lip.

You blink too fast.

You clench your fists.

You call it “composure.”

But please, my guy … cry if you must.

Let the tears fall before they drown you from within.

Let your soul unclench.

Let the pain wash through, not stay trapped under your ribs.

Crying doesn’t make you less human. It reminds you that your heart still beats,

even when the world keeps asking you to be made of stone.

I may not cry beside you not because I don’t understand, but because my tears have found another language.

When I break, my hands speak for me.

They write what my mouth cannot say,

and each word carries a piece of the storm I’m surviving.

When life happens to you, don’t rush to make sense of it.

Just breathe.

Acknowledge it in the language your heart understands be it tears, silence, letters or trembling words.

You can always figure it out later. For now, just let it out.

Even giants crumble, they just do it quietly.

From a friend

Lawal Abdulqayum