A/N: This is my very first fanfiction ever! So please read and review. I love improving myself so feel free to drop me a line any time.

I don't own Glee, though I would LOVE to own Naya Rivera and Dianna Agron... but alas, that is not the case.

I'd like to thank Pensieri for helping me get off my ass to try my hand at writing. You rock hardcore socks!

I haven't a beta right now so, if anyone is interested in correcting my horrible spelling and grammar issues... please message me.

Anywho, on with the show! I hope you enjoy the story =]


Who knew that one mistake could create so many others? I did. I've learned that a lapse in judgement can create a shift in your reality/universe, cause you to second guess your sanity, or even cost you your life.

My name is Santana Lopez and this is a story about how my lapse in judgement almost cost me my sanity.

Let's see, normally people start their stories with "Once upon a time..." but I ain't got time for that shit so I'm just gonna start with... Tuesday.

I was chillin' in my room, listening to the super sexy sounds of Kimbra on my Pandora and reading the latest installment of my favorite guilty pleasure... fan fiction from The Facts of Life. That Jo bitch and I are a lot alike... Awesome, badass, bitches who don't take shit from , I've been spending too much time with Berry because now I'm monologuing.

Point is, I was reading the latest chapter in this story, right, and I'm getting really engrossed in the content so I decided to drop a line to the writer and see if I can find out when the next chapter will be posted. Santana Lopez normally doesn't do patience well when it comes to her stories. Though, in this case, I made an exception.

So, like, I figured I'd help this person along in order to keeps my reading going. Anyway, color me surprised when the writer actually responds to my comment. Wasn't expecting such a speedy reply. Dude must be desperate for human contact or something.

The IM reads : "Thanks for the feedback. I really appreciate the fact that you took the time to review my work. It means a lot to me when I receive honest interest in my writing."

Well damn... A writer that ACTUALLY replies to their fans. This could be interesting.

So I type back: "No prob. Your story is just really gripping and I look forward to the next chapter. Mind giving me a hint? I admit to having a problem with patience and if I don't take the opportunity to ask you while I have your attention, it'll just fuck with me 'til you post up the next chapter."

And on it goes for the next couple of hours. I was NOT expecting to talk to the writer of this story but I found myself chatting with her (turns out the writer is also a lady lover like myself)... Wanky.

Now, normally, I don't DO shit like this because I refuse to get caught up in some lame ass online friendship/relationship/pen-pal-ship... thing. I have more important shit to do with my day and honesty, I'm just skeptical like that. Besides, all I'm doing is killing time until Britt gets over being with that bionic brainiac, Artie. It's all good... kinda. Well, it's NOT but I don't wanna talk about that shit right now.


Here's a little back-story on me. I like to keep others at a distance. People irritate me to no end and I don't trust most folks as far as I can throw them. My life has been about protecting myself and the small number of people I've allowed into my inner circle. People like Britt and Q. Sometimes Berry, when that little munchkin isn't workin' my last damn nerve. And maybe the rest of the Gleeks, but if you tell that shit to anyone, I will ends you and make it look like an accident.

Entiendes? Good.

Moving on with my story...

I know it was a bad idea but, I started getting excited whenever I saw another message from 'C' (won't tell you her whole name because that's not what this is about). Our conversations were long and went way beyond just simple review and respond messages. Shit, this chick was FLIRTING with me... I mean, who wouldn't? I'm hot shit on a stick and like, I'd bump uglies with my clone (if one existed), but again, that's not the point.

The fact is, her flirting like, came outta left field on me. One minute, I'm complimenting her on her writing style (shut up, I'm not a complete moron) and the next, she's telling me that she MIGHT be developing a personality crush on me. Like... WTF!? Seriously? I've only been chatting with her for a WEEK and we don't even know what the other looks like. I mean, my avatar pic is of some random hottie named Carly Pope from some old ass WB TV show I never got around to watching and hers was like some weird made up symbol... Thing!

WeirdER part of all this? I actually feel flattered. Like what the actual FUCK!? So, instead of responding to this most recent message right away, I do the only thing that makes sense for me to do... I call Q over.

This bitch... Always making me wait forever to just get to the fuckin' monkey in most situations.

I'm stuck on the phone with her yammering about her most recent argument with Pyramid Nipples (STILL don't understand what Berry and Q ever saw in THAT waste of freakishly tall skin). Though she's not dating him and neither is Berry for that matter (Tubbers and the Hobbit are seeing each other... Wanky), she still has to deal with his childish need for constant attention.

Girl needs to just tell him to shove it and enjoy her lady-loving with the midget because all that unnecessary teenage angst will turn into awesome sex and I can go back to doing better things instead of having my ear chewed off like... Right now.

"I can't believe he doesn't get that I don't want to be with him anymore... or that Rachel isn't going to go back to him ether. Like, seriously?! What part of 'I don't want your baby dick' doesn't he understand?" Quinn sighs and I roll my eyes as I reply.

"As much as I enjoy you putting the giant gelatinous man in his place, can we get back to the important topic here... Me?" I can just picture that Fabray eyebrow raising at my comment and smirk inwardly as she sighs again.

"Yeah yeah. What did you want again? And why do I have to come over in order to deal with yet ANOTHER episode of the Crazy Santana show?"

I roll my eyes again because, seriously? Q should already know that I don't just ask for her input on things. I'm kinda in serious need of assistance otherwise I wouldn't have called her overachieving ass. "Q, just bring your ass over and keep your whining to a minimum. I don't wanna have to drop kick your ass because then mini me won't shut up about how violence is bad and I REALLY don't wanna go there. Just humor me. Come over ASAP."

I hang up and lean back in my chair while staring at the little plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars that Britt and I put up on my ceiling back in the 6th grade. 'How did I let this shit happen and what am I supposed to do now?'

Guess I better explain what I'm getting at better, huh? Let's backtrack a bit so I can explain how I got to this very moment.

I have a huge ego. Pssh... We all know that and I'm used to people just brushing off certain comments and just passively basking in my awesome. I didn't actually think I could actually get in over my head doing it. I always have a plan. I'm the master of manipulation and my psychic Mexican third eye makes it damn near impossible for shit to slip past me. So how the FUCK did I miss this person ACTUALLY becoming attached to me?!


Okay, here's what went down... I started talking to 'C', as I said, because her stories are fuckin' bomb and who wouldn't want to give kudos where they were due? Anyway, turns out this bitch is witty.

Like SUPER witty.

Almost as witty as me but we both know that shit will never happen. No one surpasses Santana Fucking Lopez.

For about a day or two, our conversations were limited to how her writing was coming along. I'd ask, she'd respond... Pretty simple shit. Then, she started telling me that if I wanted to know what happened in the next chapter before she updated, that she'd slip me a copy over IM... Tempting, but I always turned her down. I'm actually more patient than people give me credit for being... sometimes. Comes with the territory of being awesome, I assure you.

Anyway, she started throwing in little winky emojis at the ends of her messages and, at first, I thought nothing of it.

But, when she starts telling me she thinks I'm adorable and she's starting to feel like reading my reviews is the best part of her day? My eyebrows raise. But, again, I let it slide. Cue the following week and now, she's calling me names like dear, sweetie, and the even more interesting... Baby.

Huh... Not so sure I can ignore those. Along with the 'terms of endearment' (no jokes in correlation to the fucking movie, yo, or I'll go all Lima Heights up in this bitch), she's talking to me about her personal life more and more... like I care.

Apparently, her stories are based on things that ACTUALLY happened to her over the trippy considering a couple of her stories are pretty dark (abusive relationships, miscarriage scares, and super creep-like family members).

I try not to judge because it ain't like my life is all roses and sunshine. I mean, considering all the shit I did to myself and others before I came out junior year? Who am I to be tossing that first, big ass hypocritical stone, right?

So I listen and try to be a good friend about the whole thing by telling her she's not the broken piece of shit she thinks she is.

Her response?

She says she feels like she's developing feelings for me!

Like woah...

Back up the truck, calm ya tits, have a woo-sah moment, and re-evaluate what you just said to me.

A stranger. On the Internet. After like a week or two of casual communication. I mean, I'm LITERALLY just words on a screen to her so what's with all the Swimfan attention? I don't know how to tell this chick to back off without feeling like I'm gonna become a character in her next story and I REALLY don't want some psycho stalker bitch chillin' in my bushes if it turns out she's like some super genius hacker crazy.

See why I need Q's brain on this one?

I'm too pretty to die like that. So, I take a deep breath to calm down, shake my head to clear the onslaught of panic-driven scenarios in my head and wait for Quinn to arrive so she can help me figure out what the fuck to do now.