Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids

Last night, I was tired by 10PM, but the huz wasn’t. He said, “Why do we always have to go to bed at the same time?”

I felt ashamed, as I always do whenever my terror is brought up to my eyes. I went to bed alone, thinking about my friend who once told me that even if she gets tired at 7PM, her husband always comes up to bed with her. If he isn’t ready to go to sleep, he just watches tv until he falls asleep.

It has been two weeks on the zoloft now. Shouldn’t that shit be working by now? Maybe it’s the dosage. Or maybe it’s the fact that three people in my life fucked me when I was a child, and now as an adult I am fucking afraid.

I laid in bed last night terrified of my closet. What if someone was hiding in there, waiting for me to fall asleep, so that he can catch me unaware? Isn’t that the way all terror works – evil catches good unaware?

So, I am laying there in bed last night, alone, scared, terrified, eyes wide open. I went up there because I was tired, but who the fuck can sleep with the man in the closet? So, I laid there awake until the huz got there. Ashamed of myself, ashamed of my relief when he finally came up to bed. Ashamed at all of this.

“Why do we always have to go to bed at the same time” he had asked. Because I am a survivor of incest and child sex abuse, and the miracle of surviving it also unfortunately means that I am afraid of imaginary people touching me, no matter what new pharmaceutical drugs the medical world comes up with to help me relax.

Obviously, yet again, my history of sex abuse is taking its toll on yet another relationship in my life. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.