small town girls




Write It Down
by Michelle K.


I'm not sure how to say this. There's never a right way to break somebody's heart, is there? Maybe there is, but I haven't found it yet.

I'll say I'm sorry in the beginning. I'm sorry that I have to tell you this. I'm sorry that it'll hurt you.

I love you. As a friend, I mean. I used to think I was in love with you, but now I know that the 'love' was just a fantastical crush. You're still my best friend and I hope you always will be.

But I'm not infatuated with you anymore. Well, that must be a relief and a shock all at the same time. Because I'm pretty sure that you've never been in love with me, and I know you had no clue how obsessed I was with you.

That was a horrible tangent. I'd throw this away and start over again, but I've been doing that all morning. And if I don't just write it down now, I'll never do it.

So, let me get back on track. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for how what I'm about to tell you will hurt you.

But I'm not sorry it happened.

I don't know what to say, so I'll just say it right off the bat. I'll just say it.

You know Lana Lang? What am I thinking? Of course you do. She's the object of your affection, the girl of your dreams. And I can see why she is, Clark. I didn't at first, but I can see now.

I can see what you love about her. Because I love her, too. I love her, but that's not all of it.

We've been seeing each other for the past six months. And at first, I thought it would amount to nothing. I thought I'd just end up as Lana Lang's fleeting experiment in the world of lesbianism. And that she would just go down as the first girl I kissed.

That would be it. No big deal.

But it became more. It became a relationship. A relationship that I can't tell anyone about, but a relationship none the less.

I know this'll hurt you, Clark. That the girl you love is sleeping with your best friend.

But that doesn't matter to me. I mean, I feel bad. I wish I could make the pain go away. But it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters, because we're in love.

Damn. That sounds horribly stupid doesn't it? Like something out of a Celine Dion song, or some cheesy romance from the 50's. But it's true. We're in love.

Well, I guess I don't know that she's in love. I think she is. Sometimes, she tells me that she loves me. But, for all I know, that could just be a lie or an exaggeration. There has to be something wrong with her, after all.

But I haven't really found it yet. That's why I love her. That's why I spend all day thinking about her. I guess that's why you spend all your time thinking about her, isn't it. You think she's perfect. And she is.

Being with her is perfection.

She is...

You're going to hate me for this, aren't you? You're going to feel betrayed. You're going to look at me as the girl who stole away the love of your life.

But, you have to understand, Clark. She never was yours. You never took your chance. But I took my chance. I kissed her and I didn't say I was sorry. I didn't let my eyes get clouded over with puppy dog stares of soulful admiration. I just looked at her and admitted I wanted her.

And she wanted me back.

She was mine. She is mine. And can't have her. She can never be yours. I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm just saying...I can't give her up, Clark. Not even for you. Not even because you're my best friend and I know this could crush you.

Because she's mine. And I love her.

I'm sorry.



Chloe stares at the letter. She wants to give it to Clark, wants to tell him everything. Wants this to stop being a secret. Wants to know that he won't fall apart or hate them both. Mostly, she wants to know that her best friend will accept who she is.

She wants those things. But she knows the risks are too great. The risk that Clark will hate her and glare at her with hurt eyes. That everyone in town will find out what's been going on between her and Lana - and they'll have to deal with stares and muttered comments. Mostly, the risk that her best friend won't accept who she is.

She crumples up the letter in her fist and throws it into the wastebasket. It'll be okay, she reasons, to just keep this secret a little while longer.

It'll be okay. Even if she feels like a liar.

Later, when Lana's mouth is on her neck, she doesn't think about the letter, about the future, about the lies.

She feels more than okay.