Throughout my childhood, I had always believed in God. My father and mother (mostly my father) would consistently tell me many things about Him; there wasn't ever a situation where God wasn't put into play. I had been taught that God is higher than all; God is "number one." When I would go out in public with my parents and my sister (before she moved away for college), my parents would often criticize people and if I ever asked them why, the answer was simple: because they aren't worthy of God.
Instead of reading Judy Bloom books, I was stuck with a Bible. Of course, I never complained, because the last thing I ever wanted to do was upset my father. So I read the Bible, and I tried as hard as I could to learn from it. Most of the time I hardly understood anything the passages were saying, and instead of actually reading the words on the page, I would just count them.
As I entered my freshman year of high school, I was absolutely positive that there was a God, mainly because I had the perfect life. President of the Celibacy Club, head Cheerio on a team that probably had more trophies than I had hairs on my head, and I was dating Finn Hudson. Although he is probably the biggest idiot I have ever met in my life, he was popular, and that's all I ever really cared about.
I had taken after my father when it came to the judgmental side of myself. I would strut down the halls of McKinley and deem nearly every single person I saw unworthy of God's love, of his acceptance. This irritated me to no end; I hated who my father had molded me into. But that didn't stop me.
The day I met Santana and Brittany was the day I began to question things; mostly because they kissed (on the lips) right in front of me, and for the first time in my life, I wondered if God was ever wrong about anything. I watched them together. I saw how Santana would give Brittany her lunch had she forgotten hers, and I saw how Brittany would skip in front of Santana just to hold the door open for her. Neither of them had to say anything about their relationship, because everybody knew what they had was special…and you had to be some kind of moron to not realize that they were in love.
But rather than the venom-filled slurs my father would encourage me to spit at them, I would simply smile every time either of them caught my eye. I felt nothing but joy for them, and that scared me.
The day my parents kicked me out during my sophomore year due to my pregnancy, I again questioned God's words. I hadn't done anything wrong in my life, really, and here I was: pregnant and homeless. Why had God let me be so stupid? Where was he when I was in Puckerman's room, drinking those sickeningly sweet wine coolers? Why didn't he save me? After a long night of thinking and rolling around in Finn's guest bed, I decided to save those thoughts for a later day.
But that plan didn't work out, because a few weeks later, Rachel Berry happened. I had always found the girl particularly endearing, although I would never let onto it. But she had single-handedly spilled my secret to Finn, so now I was pregnant, single, and homeless. But that's not what made me question God. After Finn had blown up in the choir room, Rachel found me sitting in the hallway, and after her ridiculously long tirade about how I was "allowed" to punch her, she squeezed her eyes shut, and her eyelashes completely vanished.
I don't know why, and I'm not sure that I ever will, because that was the moment I stopped believing in God. In that moment, I realized that if I was ever going to hold anybody up on a pedestal as high as God's, it would be Rachel Berry, in all of her eyelash-disappearing glory.
And that infuriated me.
For the months following, I stopped praying and reading my scriptures. I, in all honesty, never gave God the time of day because somehow, God had turned me into a homeless, pregnant lesbian, that was in love with Rachel Berry, of all people. I loathed him for it.
I stopped going out of my way to harass Rachel, but whenever I looked at her and saw her long brown curls flow over her shoulders, or her thousand watt smile shine, I instantly wanted to insult her. I hated what she did to me. I hated that just the thought of her alone made me smile.
I dated Sam, and I dated Finn again, all in hopes of falling in love with them. I wished every single night that they would take over the place I had reserved for her in my heart, but it never happened.
Sam was definitely a good guy, and I would be lying if I said he didn't make me happy, but he wasn't ever it for me. I felt horrible for making him think he had something special when he really did not.
Finn was still a complete oaf, and I think the only reason why I began to date him again was solely because he had been with Rachel before. Kissing him was disgusting, but I felt oddly connected to her because her lips had once been on his. It was almost like kissing her…only not at all.
When prom finally rolled around, I refused to let Rachel Berry ruin my night. I was absolutely positive that I was going to win Prom Queen. I didn't even let the fact that Finn got kicked out get to me. I was determined to win this; to redeem myself.
The second Figgins called Kurt's name was the second that I was absolutely positive there was no God; he had completely abandoned me.
I ran to the bathroom, mainly to console myself because every single thing I had ever wanted, I couldn't ever have. Not even Prom Queen.
I heard the door open and I was fully prepared to rip whoever was standing in the doorway a new one…but the last person I expected to be standing there was Rachel Berry.
What happened next is something I never want to think about ever again. Sure, Rachel infuriated me, but I never thought I would go as far as hitting her. There was no blaming God this time; I couldn't believe that I actually let myself slap her. If I were to ever have to choose my biggest regret in life, it wouldn't be Beth or getting kicked out, it would be slapping Rachel Berry.
I was honestly prepared for her to throw me down. Truthfully, I had done nothing but torment and harass her throughout the entire time that I had known her. The only time I ever seeked her out, I stood by her at the piano and tried to make her realize that her dreams are so much bigger than Finn; so much bigger than Lima, even bigger than Ohio. I knew I was being a complete bitch, but that's all I really knew how to do.
A few moments after my hand came in contact with her fact, I spat out a quick apology. But Rachel didn't leave.
Rachel stayed in the bathroom and she consoled me. After every rude nickname and every slushy, Rachel Berry still remained the bigger and better person than I was.
She talked to me and told me so many things…she even took the fact that I slapped her as a pro rather than a con.
And then she called me the prettiest girl she had ever met…and a lot more than that. My heart soared.
She eventually calmed me down and dried my tears, and after months upon months of hating God for what he had put me to, everything clicked. I had realized that maybe God put me through everything I had been through just to lead me to her, to lead me to Rachel.
After prom, I made my way to church and I began to pray to God. It was probably the shortest prayer I had whispered in years.
Dear God…thank you for bringing her to me. I promise I won't mess this up twice. Amen.