Every week was the same. Rachel always had the limelight, was always first to the floor to show off not only her talent, but her radiant beauty. I'd always admired her, although I'd rather die than tell anyone. As I watched her sing I wished I could have half the confidence she did. She always made things look so effortless and, even though she never dressed as slutty as I did, she always had the glee boys falling at her feet. Somehow she'd managed to seduce every one, just as I did, but she did it wearing a cardigan and knee length skirt. I needed the security of my cheerleading uniform; something that brought me status and sex appeal. It was then that I realised what Rachel had that I didn't; self acceptance. Being so comfortable in her own skin made her desirable in a way I never could be and this is why I was so shocked at the revelation in front of me.
Rachel was singing with Quinn about being 'unpretty', admitting that she thought she wasn't perfect. She wanted to change the way she looked and I didn't understand why. Maybe it was the pressure of constantly battling Quinn to be the girlfriend of the quarterback, maybe it was the pressure of being our main soloist for Nationals, or maybe it was something else. I knew one thing though; a nose job wasn't something you decided on impulse. It was a difficult decision that took a lot of thought. I knew this from experience. Every day of my life there was something I wanted to change about myself. I was anything but perfect. My hair always had a mind of its own, my legs seemed to be gaining all of the weight I'd put on over the past few months and I'd never liked my boyish figure. I'd stand in front of the mirror and picture what I'd look like with some liposuction, bigger boobs or some Botox. I dreamed about being this perfect woman, beautiful in every way, proud of who she was and how she looked. Every time I looked in mirror though, this dream seemed further and further away.
I walked down the corridor to my locker after glee club, my mind clouded with thoughts. I put in my code, opened the lock and pulled the door. I'd covered the inside of my locker with images of people I could only imagine being. When people commented on the pictures I'd lie and say I enjoyed their acting or music, but the truth be told, to me, these women were perfection. I don't know why I did it to myself. It was just torture, reminding myself of a person I thought I could never be. No-one could ever imagine that I even have these thoughts. On the surface I was convincingly confident, the bitch, the girl that everyone wanted to be and no-one wanted to cross. I'd had guys dropping at my feet for years, but it was always just for sex. It was never for a relationship. Not one guy had ever said "I love you" to me. In fact, the only person who had ever said those three words to me was the girl who was standing to my right, staring at me with a look that was a mixture of both love and concern.
"What's wrong, Santana? You haven't been yourself today." Brittany said, wanting to help but not wanting to seem forceful.
"It's nothing" I replied, and she instantly knew I was lying.
"San, talk to me. Whatever it is, I'll understand." I hated how Brittany had the power to make me feel secure, to make me feel safe. I was meant to be this powerful bitch with a heart of stone. No-one ever saw me showing emotion. I hated how she made me feel, but I loved it even more. It was exhausting trying to keep your walls up all the time. Sometimes you just needed to let them come crashing down.
"Brit, when you look in the mirror what do you see?" I said, not wanting to give too much away. I wanted desperately to let my walls crash down, but maybe it would be easier to take them down brick by brick instead. Brittany looked confused. This was clearly not what she'd expected me to say.
"I see myself, what else would I see?"
"That's not what I mean. I mean, when you look at yourself. Do you think you see yourself how I see you?" I knew the answer to this question immediately. She could never see herself the way I see her. To me she was absolutely perfect down to the very last detail. What she called flaws, only added to her perfection in my eyes.
"I don't know. I guess I see some things the same and some differently. You've always said you'd want to be able to dance like me to be able to tone up, but I don't see myself like that. To me, my tummy could be flatter and I could lose a bit of weight everywhere else while I'm there."
"You're perfect the way you are." I said, trying to sound as sincere and honest as I could. I wanted her to believe those words more than anything she'd ever believed before. I saw her lips move into a small smile and I thought that she understood, but her eyes showed that she didn't believe me.
"This isn't about me. I want to know what's wrong with you. You can talk to me."
My walls came down with such a crash that it almost felt like a physical barrier had been removed between us.
"I just can't compare to anyone in this school, Britt." I said with a lump in my throat. "Every girl here is beautiful, they get what they want and they don't have to put up a front to get it." My voice broke and the tears started. "I don't want to be this person anymore, the person I've grown to be. I don't want to be the one to bring others down to try and get respect. I don't want to be the girl who has to sleep around to gain some status with the guys in school. I just want to be perfect. Like Rachel, like Quinn, like you."
Brittany's expression turned from concern to shock on my last word. "San, I'm not perfect. No-one is. We're all as insecure as each other, and we all want to be something we're not. I only joined the Cheerios because I wanted to be like you."
"You don't want to be like me" I quickly interrupted. "No-one would want to be like me." I regretted starting this conversation. I didn't really know what I'd expected to get out of it, but I wasn't getting what I needed. I didn't want to hear that the most perfect person I knew wanted to lower herself to be like me. I didn't want her to change. She was everything I wasn't, that's why I loved her.
"I've known you since we were kids. I know the Santana that everyone else doesn't get to see. I know what you're like when you're not putting on the act, but I understand why you do it. You don't want to look weak. I had to earn your trust before I seen the real you. You're beautiful, real you and you with the walls up. I loved you before, and I love you now. I love you, Santana. You. Nothing more, nothing less."
And there they were. Those three small words that I'd only ever heard from one person. And that same person was saying them again. My heart was in a delicate balance between beating far too fast and stopping altogether. Why did she have this power over me? Why did I hang on her every word, every single letter, every pause, every breath? I could look at her forever. I listened to her breathing, watched her blink, admired the way her hair fell over her eyes. It took me a moment to realise that we were still mid conversation, and I'd stood staring at her in silence for a second too long and that it wouldn't go unnoticed. I snapped out of my daydream and attempted to remember the last thing Brittany had said, so I could come up with some sort of response. I love you, Santana. You. Nothing more, nothing less.
"I – I love you too." I was still overwhelmed by the moment, lost in everything about her.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to say it back." Brittany said with a slight giggle.
"I love you." I said again, this time with much more certainty after quickly pulling myself together. I put emphasis on each word, taking time to make sure she understood just how much.
She leant towards me, putting her arms around my shoulders. I hugged her back and instantly felt a hundred times better. Nothing compared to this feeling. In her arms I felt perfect. I didn't want to change a thing about myself. It was the only place in the world where all my insecurities disappeared, the only place I was comfortable in my own skin. It was the only place I felt at home.