There are no poetic words for this.

I'm worried for him, sick over him. I woke up at 4:30 this morning to screaming and thumps. It sounded like a brawl, one wall over. It shook me up, I texted him, but no response. Twenty minutes later it died down and I drifted back into sleep littered with uneasy thoughts and incoherent screams.

Went over this morning and asked what happened, if he remembered? He barely did, but it was something about too much alcohol and someone making him angry. Some girl, some alcohol. There's a pit in my stomach and I am worried, so worried. He's leaving for L.A. in two days. With no plan, just a guitar and some sort of passion.

He said he hasn't had a tantrum like that since he found You. Since he believed You were good. I don't understand what he's trying to escape from, why he slinks to the car everyday to smoke it out. Why he won't spend time with us but runs to people that, well, that I've seen no good come from.

I'm not his mother, not his girlfriend, not his answer, not his savior, but Yeshua I'm frightened for him. This summer may force him to face who he is and what he wants, but I'm terrified it will be at the expense of his safety, his well being. We all have to learn our lessons, run until we can't take a step without falling, sit in our shit, and eventually crawl away from it. I get that, but sometimes it doesn't have to be so painful and sometimes we don't have to fall so hard.

It's just a city I know little of but dark roads, and he knows nothing of but opportunity.

I tried to be his answer, but you're his answer. Be His answer, please.