Write It Down
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
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
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
Being with her is perfection.
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 you...you 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.
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
She feels more than okay.