My son lives on the streets of San Diego. He wanders around laughing out loud and thinks thoughts most of us would deem weird. On March 23rd they let him out of the San Diego Detention Center. He probably was given back six or so crinkled Pokémon Cards but other than that nothing. He made his way to his buddy’s apartment where graciously his buddy let him sleep on the floor.
I guess and it’s only a guess, he was asked to leave due to his behavior. When he’s in his manic phase, you hope he won’t kill you while you’re sleep. Since he has been released, he’s called me asking for money. The other day he made me upset when he started screaming at me because I told him, “I love and care about you. You’re 30 and you need to stop messing around or you will be back in jail.” He didn’t want to hear my words.
After a few days of not hearing from him, I figured he had been picked up again by the police. I must say When I see those 619 area code numbers pop up on my phone, I cringe and debate with myself whether to take the call or let it go to voice mail… This too will pass