Dear diary,

I’m in love with Bette Porter. I don’t know for how long now, because it feels like forever. I can’t remember my life before her and I don’t ever want to know how it will be after her.
She is the most divine creature on this earth and I can’t get my head around the fact that she’s so present in my life. Every day, I see her. It kills me that I can’t walk up to her and kiss her, take her in my arms.

Sometimes, she has a sad look in her eyes. It breaks my heart into a thousand pieces and more that I can’t hold and hush her, that I can’t take her home with me and tell her how I feel.
I can’t reach her. I can’t get through to her and I feel absolutely ridicolous. I am not supposed to feel this way.

But when I think of Bette, I don’t care what society expects from me. I don’t care what people say, I don’t care if I’ll lose everything that I have. Because I would be with her.
But the things it that I will never be with her. She’s Bette Porter and she has a certain role in my life. Ever since she came to this school, this role was written out for her. Ever since I came to this school, this role was written out for me. Neither of us can pass a certain line.

I long for her to touch me in every way. I long for her to whipe the tears she brings to my eyes, to ease the hurt in my chest when I see her with someone else, laughing, bantering, knowing that I will never have that. She doesn’t see me that way and there’s no reason she should. I should get my mind off her, but I can’t.

The thing is, she is my mind. She takes over it every minute of every hour of every day. Not once does she leave it, and I can’t take it any longer. I need to tell her that I love her, that I cherish her and that I want to be with her for ever and longer. But I can’t.

This love is becoming obsessive and I’m scared. Nobody knows about this and it’s better this way, but I know that keeping the feelings inside isn’t healthy either. They just accumulate and get worse and take over my soul, burning it to dust. She brings me to a place where I am nobody because her love doesn’t fill my heart.

I scare myself with my thoughts. I want to be her, so I can always be with her. I need to be in her, so I can take over her heart. Some would call it poetic, but I don’t care if I’m blunt or poetic or pathetic, or both of those last ones. I can’t take it anymore. This is not normal. She needs to see I love her, but I will have to show her and I can’t. We can’t cross those lines – who says she even wants to?

She sees me in the role that was written out for me. I am supposed to see her in her own role, but those lines have faded. When I know that she’s going to her basketball practice, I imagine her all sweaty. When I know she’s taking a shower, I see the image of her naked body, the water cascading down her breasts, I can even see her taut nipples.

I always try to shake those images out of my head, but they won’t disappear. She’s it, she’s the one, and I know why. It’s because of how she is, how she is so her, how she is like no one else is her. And it’s her I want. It’s her I’ll always want. But everything around us forbids us to be, if she even wants it.

Tomorrow I have to ask her, but I can’t. I can’t take this rejection, her reaction. She’ll laugh at me, find me stupid, maybe even tell everyone and then, I’m screwed. I won’t find a job anywhere. I, Tina Kennard, am utterly, eternally, completely and undeniably in love with Bette Porter, my student.