This is a topic not really covered in the smallville fandom - clark, for obvious reasons.
but teenagers cutting themselves not exactly a rarity, and with all that clarks been thru, an outlet for his pain and suffering would be understandable.
thus, I haven't been in the best of moods tonight, and came up with this.
I’m an alien.
I’m totally alone in the world.
I know I sound like a typical angsting teen, but when I say no-one understands, I can say it, as there are parts of my life that no-one COULD understand, not even my parents.
And that’s depressing enough, in and of itself.
That a 17 year old boy – sorry ALIEN actually thinks his parents could understand?!
I’m just sick of THIS.
My very existence.
Trying to be perfect. The perfect son, friend, student.
Pining after the perfect girl.
When I know, that deep down, that’s the *furthest* thing I could ever be.
And I’m far from perfect.
A perfect son wouldn’t kill his sibling, hurt his mum, run away for the summer and become a fucking *rentboy* (not that the ‘rents know about that), and cause his father to have a fucking HEART ATTACK!
Perfect friends don’t lie. They don’t base entire friendships on lies.
They don’t lie about abilities that they *obviously* have. They don’t destroy their friends’ cars! The don’t allow their *Best Friend* to go into a mental institution and remain there, undergo electro-shock treatment for a mental illness they don’t have, all to protect their own FUCKING SECRET!!!
Pete. Sweet, simple Pete. It seemed to feel like such a weight had been lifted off my shoulders when I told him. That didn’t last long. My secret is a burden to all who carry it. I’m capable of carrying that burden, I have to be, but Pete shouldn’t have to try to shoulder that responsibility. Even he gets it. We’re drifting apart. Further than we already were. The hardest thing is, Pete may be my oldest friend, and I trust him, but I don’t know if I wanted to trust him with my life – with my secret. No, I know, I didn’t want to tell him. I had to. There’s a difference.
Chloe. Conniving, cute little Chloe. Always digging. Never realised how much her ‘Wall of Weird’ hurts. How could she? I couldn’t tell her. Ever. I love her, she’s my friend, but I’d never trust her with my secret. I could never be sure that it wasn’t too big of a story for her to keep quiet. No, better to end up losing her as a friend for my secrets. But she keeps secrets to, she lies. Digging into my adoption. Working for that BASTARD Lionel Luthor.
Then there’s Lana. Sweet, ‘innocent’ perfect Lana. The girl I’m ‘supposed’ to be in love with. The whiny, self-obsessed, self-absorbed, emotionless, little brunette cardboard Barbie doll of a bitch. I’ve fooled everyone into thinking I’m, so in love with her – even her, but the more I got to know her, the further the illusion of perfection faded, and the more I begun to realise that she was nothing. No substance, just…blah.
Now, that’s the last thing I could say about Lex.
Alexander Joseph Luthor.
My Best Friend.
One of the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor’s.
I’m in love with him.
Yes! I know! Ridiculous huh?
Hey! I’m a 6’4’’ Alien from a planet so far away it no longer exists! Lets top that off by being gay, ok?!
That’s the final nail in my coffin of anti-perfection.
A perfect son wouldn’t be gay.
But I can’t help it.
Ever since I met him, I felt drawn to his presence. Even when we fight, my heart is racing with love for him. Sometimes I think it’s easier to be away from him, easier to hide. But I need him like a human needs oxygen.
And it kills me a little more everyday.
Because he’s so beautiful, so dynamic, intelligent, brilliant, and thousands of other adjectives too numerous to mention.
He’s far from perfect in the conventional sense, but to me, that’s how he always appears to be.
LEX is the only one I’ve ever really really wanted, felt compelled, to tell my secret to. After all he’s done for me, against his ingrained Luthor training, he is my friend, and a great friend at that! He *knows* I lie, and it breaks my heart every time I have to do so. Dad makes it all so much harder with his vocal abuse of all things Luthor. Sometimes I seriously want to deck him. To scream and shout ‘BUT I LOVE HIM!’
But that will never be.
The illusion must be maintained in public.
The mask of perfection must remain in place.
Only with Lex do I ever really *feel*.
A feeling that will forever go unrequited.
Not that I would ever tell him, but he is far too good for me – like the, farmer’s son aiming to win the heart of the prince. Destined never to be. But when he says we have a destiny, I believed him. False hope is a painful thing.
Pain. That is a feeling I have finally found.
Yes, I have found a non-meteor related way.
The pain stops the thoughts.
Physical pain blocks out the mental.
So, in my barn, my fortress of solitude, I sit, and I cause pain to block pain. I burn. And I feel. I finally truly FEEL.
I am at peace.
Clark placed the journal facedown beside him on the sofa, before focusing his eyes on his bare arm. If anyone had been present to look closely, his eyes glowed red, as he stared intently at his arm. Which sizzled and reddened, as it began to burn.
Stripes of burnt flesh down both arms (glad of the decreasing temperature of the coming winter to excuse his long sleeves), his legs – particularly the top of his thighs. Bright red, throbbing, strips of sore, raw skin. Until finally, he’d had enough, and slipped into unconsciousness, a smile gracing his lips as he did so.
For it was only in his dreams was his existence ever pain-free and happy, as there, he was with Lex.
now, its the latest in a long line of my wips, and not exactly concerning clark cutting himself per say.
but read please!
feedback would be appreciated, as ever!