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I don't know when it started - this thing - bit it's growing, muffling me, suffocating me like poison ivy. I grew into it. It grew into me. We blurred at the edges, became an amorphous, seeping, crawling thing.

Tabitha Suzuma

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Tabitha Suzuma
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Writer
London
England
Tabitha Sayo Victoria Anne Suzuma
Grew
Amorphous
Started
Blurred
Bits
Suffocating
Growing
Ivy
Thing
Crawling
Like
Poison
Edges
Became
Seeping

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It's horrible being ashamed of someone you care about it eats away at you. And if you let it get to you, if you give up the fight and surrender, eventually that shame turns to hate.
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How-how can we make it against the whole world?
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What else could he possibly have done? What choices did he ever have?
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And this is something I must accept - even if, like acid on metal, it is slowly corroding me inside.
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I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you of all people. Throughout my life you were the one person I could turn to. The one person I could always count on to understand. And now that I’ve lost you, I’ve lost everything.
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This is the definition of happiness: a whole day stretching out ahead of me, beautiful in its emptiness and simplicity.
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Get through today – you can fall apart tomorrow. Get through tomorrow, you can fall apart the day after . . .
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If I move, if I speak, if I so much as blink, I'm going to lose this battle.
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I mean, at the end of the day, what the hell does it matter who I end up with if it can't be you?
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At the end of the day it's about how much you can bear, how much you can endure. Being together, we harm nobody being apart, we extinguish ourselves.
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Even though I'm surrounded by pupils, there is the invisible screen screen between us, and behind the glass wall I am screaming - screaming in my own silence, screaming to be noticed, to be befriended, to be liked.
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She can't just be a face, a body there has to be more than that, some kind of connection. And I can't connect, don't want to connect, with anyone.
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At what point do you give up - decide enough is enough? There is only one answer really. Never.
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He is my soul mate, my fresh air, the reason I look forward to getting up every morning.
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Nothing can relieve the pain. Not crying, laughing, screaming, begging. Nothing can change the past.
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I love you in–in every kind of way.’ ‘I feel like that too . . .’ His voice is shocked and raw. ‘It’s – it’s a feeling so big I sometimes think it’s going to swalow me. It’s so strong I feel it could kil me. It keeps growing and I can’t – I don’t know what to do to stop it. But – but we’re not supposed to do this – to love each other like this!
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Pressed up against him, I can feel the thud of his heart against mine, his ribcase expanding and contracting rapidly against my chest, the warm whisper of his breath tickling the side of my neck, the brush of his leg against my thigh. Resting my arms on his shoulders, I pull back a little to get a look at his face. But he isn't smiling any more.
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Lochie. The boy I once loved. The boy I still love. The boy I will continue to love, even when my part in this world is over too.
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