I've Always Cared

Entry 1 of Journal 7

A fucking charge on Graffiti. What was the Graffiti? Penises, boobs and some other language that they assume is hate speech or some shit. That's what I had to pick them up for. Not to mention now I have to pay the damn fine. Though they don't need to know that.

Now to say I was furious is an overstatement. Sure, I was definitely mad. I got a call in the middle of work to go pick up Moss. So obviously I'm worried and I leave in the middle of work for that. I get them out and we head home. No point going to work after that. Especially after what I saw...

We get home and they immediately try to run off and hide in their room again. I get it, it's their safe place but after what they did? What I saw? I was done letting them get off and doing whatever they wanted. They needed help. The kind that I just couldn't provide.

We've had this chat plenty of times before and I always let them have what they wanted. But not this time. Sure, they probably hate me now for making them go to therapy but... I just can't sit back and watch them destroy themself like this. It hurts to watch as they slowly slip away.

I'll admit, I am definitely not the best person suited for watching over them. Not even the top fifty. But there's no one else I would trust to take care of them. They don't seem to mind that I'm not always around to take care of them due to work. But now that I'm thinking about it, that could be one of the problems.

I don't know anymore. I just hope this therapy crap can help them. Even if it's for a little bit. I'm at a loss and I can't stand to watch anymore. I just want them to be happy again.