No. You aren’t crazy.

No one really wants to know the truth. Not the hard shit. The horrific shit. They want it to go away. To brush it under the carpet. And to blame the kid for what was done to him or her.

But you are a hero to me.

Because you don’t go for the easy answers. Because you struggle so. Because you get up and start another day with no way out. No cure.

I can barely walk past a stray fucking dog on the street, let alone deal with what you face every day.

My heart breaks reading your stories.

I wish I could help. Offer some advice. Relieve some of the burden.

But I can’t.

I can send money and cameras (I never heard back when I asked on the website about my old cam. No worries if you can’t use it)

But I can’t do shit about the problem or the weight you feel. I hate that.

I hate that you feel like it is some failing on your part that you don’t know everything when you are doing a million times more for these kids than anyone else.

But I get it. He’s dying. Fuck. Hell.

I’ll never know what it’s like to walk in your shoes.

But I hear you.

I will listen.

And I hope to do my part to help with this ridiculous shit and evil that I didn’t really know existed before your writing. I ignored it like the “civilized” folks. Fuck them.