The interaction between Kurt and Quinn towards the beginning of the episode upset me. Kurt basically made the wrong assumption that people who are seemingly well off have nothing to be depressed about. However, I strongly believe Quinn has been depressed since she gave Beth away, which would explain her erratic behavior throughout season 2 and 3. She's had plenty of struggles in her life, and despite what she said, I think she would understand quite well why Karofsky would take his life. I hope you like it!

an island in my ocean

She hears about Karofsky on the way to school that morning. Mercedes texts her, saying facebook's exploding with the news. Karofsky tried to hang himself yesterday because kids at his school found out he was gay and harassed him.

The first thing she feels isn't pity, or guilt. It's relation.

Sure, probably no one else would believe it, and maybe she can't even admit it, but she's been in that place before. She never told anyone. She hid it. She hides it now, which is why she lies to them, saying she has no idea why he'd do that.

Really, she does. She's been in that darkness, for the longest time. When she was a little girl and everyone hated her, when they called her Lucy Caboosey and shoved her in the dirt, she felt it. The darkness. It was impenetrable. She'd open the medicine cabinet and stare at her father's heart medication every night. Two pills and she'd pass out. Six, and her twelve year old heart would stop forever.

She didn't do it, though. She changed schools. She dyed her hair. She starved herself. Maybe it wasn't positive, but at least it was winning.

Sophomore year, she got pregnant. Her family abandoned her. Coach Sylvester abandoned her. Her popularity was gone. Puck was screwing other girls. Finn was in love with Rachel. No, she never would've hurt herself because she didn't want to hurt her baby. Her baby deserved a life. Her baby deserved a chance. But the minute she was born? Well, as soon as she could walk she was planning on walking right off a bridge.

Puck changed her mind, because he loved her. But then… the aftermath hit her full force, and she didn't care about much of anything anymore.

Her father left them for good. She missed her baby and no one understood. She missed the way her life used to be. She was worthless… she was nothing. She wasn't popular, she wasn't a good Christian girl, and she wasn't a Cheerio. She had lost her entire life. How was she supposed to be a new person?

Junior year was a ploy. She tried as hard as she could to hide it. Obviously it worked, because no one knew. It was easy to pretend at school, surrounded by people. It was easy to pretend she wanted it all back, just like it was before. Inside, she knew it was gone. She knew she was lost. She stared at herself in the mirror every night and wondered why she couldn't just be happy. Why couldn't she just catch a break?

Late at night, early in the morning, her fingers grazed over the knives in the kitchen, over the pills in the drawer. She felt release seconds away. But she never took it.

Why? Well, she doesn't know why. She doesn't know how it changed. Seeing Beth again made it worse, but Rachel's words and Puck's understanding helped. Reflection helped. Time helped.

She was raised to never give up. She was raised to stick to her guns and climb to the top, just like her father told her. She was raised to keep going, even if it meant crawling for a while. Maybe that's why she crawled for so long, until she could stand.

Now she's going to Yale. She's a Cheerio again. She and Puck are on speaking terms. She might visit Beth next month, after she apologized to Shelby. She feels better, finally.

Maybe she doesn't agree with Rachel's decisions, but really there's nothing she can do. It's just time to support her. She needs to worry about herself, no one else.

"Sure, you had a baby when you were 16 and you had a bad dye job for two weeks, but seriously? The world never stopped loving you. And you're going to Yale. You have no idea what Karofsky was struggling with."

She wants to scream. She wants to cry, because no one understands a mask. No one understands that you're still a mom even if you don't have a child. No one understands what it feels like to have your father completely disown you, to lose God, something so close to your heart.

Everyone sees what they want to see. That's it.

The world stopped loving her for a very long time. The world stopped altogether. Her world stopped. She lost everything. Everything…

In hindsight, it was probably postpartum depression, something she's too ashamed of to ever admit. David is probably depressed too. Thinking happy thoughts won't cure that. Eating peanut butter won't cure that.

Nothing cures it, really, not without help. Somehow she made it through, but she struggled just as much.

…

She doesn't see the car hit. She feels it.

And yes, at one time, she would have welcomed the impact.

But now… now… she just wants to live. It's not fair. Nothing's fair.

Life is fragile. Life is easily taken away. She knows it. She's felt it tugging at her heart, at the serotonin in her brain. She felt it every time she imagined drowning herself in a medicated sleep, gone forever. Every time she knew she'd never see Beth take her first steps, every time she thought about her loneliness, immense, stretching across her vision like a deep, gray sea.

She feels a panic, a rush of regret. And then nothing.