a/n: I'm beginning to really appreciate this site, because it's a place where I can write to let everything I've been holding in out. This definitely helps the stuff I'm currently dealing with, because all of the discrimination and words and insecurities get to me sometimes, you know? And crying doesn't solve the problem, but it does lessen the burden and writing stuff out like this really helps to let it pass. Rachel (as much as I hate to admit) is seriously the only fictional character that is similar to me, she and I are alike in personality wise. This revolves around Season 1, not Season 2, because the stuff S1 Rachel went through is more similar to what I went through, so it ends in Season 1.

edit: the ending could have been better, and this feels really choppy, never mind, I'm posting it anyway

and she's left with nothing
(but a little ray of hope that hasn't burned out yet)

. . .

She's wants to touch the sky, witness supernovas and beautifies images, she wants to touch, see; feel.

Rachel listens to the sounds of her heart beating sometimes, draws little patterns and hearts against her skin with her fingers, not with ink. She feels fire burn her flesh, not physically, but emotionally as the sounds of cruel laughter intrude her ears. It's always been so unfair, so horribly cruel, the world's a mess and the sky doesn't seem blue, she sees the world in blameless black and white.

She's not a princess, she doesn't have a sparkly gold tiara and doesn't need one; she doesn't get flowers for Valentine's Day and her birthdays and is so different from what you'd imagine her to be. She hates the sounds of laughter sometimes, hates the way people whisper and look at her, she loathes, dreads it with every inch of her being.

She feels ugly - not beautiful like her father tells her, because all fathers tell their daughters the same thing. She feels terrible, like a wreck in a terrible piece of clothing which is nothing like her usual clothes, she dreads that she has to let things go, because she holds grudges and rolls her eyes and subconsciously builds walls and pushes people away. She hates herself sometimes, because she's too emotional, and then too hard, she won't open up, and when she does tears fall and the secrets just pour out.

She can't trust - all of her so called "friends" were gossiping behind her back, and now she walks home alone and looks back as all of the other girls and boys laughs with their friends. Sometimes that girl Tina walks home with her, and she understands that people will abandon you in this dreadful school, and Rachel leans on her sometimes and they smile together, but she avoids her sometimes because being seen with her might make her seem weird too.

Rachel wants fame and beautiful gowns and spotlight dances and adoration because her head's filled with things that she knows are impossible to happen to her. She makes delusions, believes in things she knows isn't true and hates how she rarely has someone to cry on. And the worst part is that when she gets into a fight with her fathers, she cries on a teacher's shoulder for a straight half an hour accidentally the next day after school just when she asks if everything is okay.

Rachel hates, is absolutely humiliated as it happens, that she has to seek comfort in a woman she barely knows. She wants to wash away all of the pain, the grossness, the discrimination and she wants to be liked, to be adored, so badly it hurts and aches and sometimes she just feels like an utter loser. She admires the rain, because when it falls on the pavement and as the cool atmosphere fills the room; she pretends she's the only one that cries at night, and the rain reminds her of the painful tears shed.

She wants to dance in the rain, to bask in the absolute loveliness that is the rain, to see and justify beauty of it, to feel like she's real. She wants to spin around like those spunky and lovable girls she sees in movies and wants to dance gracefully, but also beautifully and wants it to amaze the people around her. She wants to be loved so damn bad that it hurts and she can feel it in her chest, feel it making her anxious and shake, and feels it sending a damned shiver down her spine.

. . .

She's seven when she realizes no one likes her.

Rachel's sitting alone in the outdoor cafeteria, scuffing her sneakers on the pavement below her and picking up the little lunches in her lunch box, she digs her teeth in the cut pieces of apples, some shaped like stars and others shaped like hearts, and she puts a French fry in a small pool of ketchup and swirls it around.

She sticks some French fries in her mouth, and devours the rest of her meal silently and awkwardly, a mass of children swinging on the swings and sliding down the slides and laughter fills the air and the girls play in the sandboxes and a few girls make up some "Fairy Princess Club" that makes teachers roll their eyes at the name and smile a little bit to themselves.

Rachel decides that she can't sit alone forever, and plays in the sandbox, but all of the other girls walk away almost instantly the moment she sits down. She makes a castle, it's rough and bland and just a pile of sand sticking up, but she finds a little white flag in a green bucket and places it on top of the castle. She turns around as thick, giggly laughter ring in the air. She sees the members of the Fairy Princess Club, otherwise known as the FPC.

She abandons her castle and approaches the FPC with a toothy grin, and they break apart from their tight circles and their collided giggles and stare at the smiling girl standing above them with raised eyebrows, and she asks, in the most nonchalant and innocent tone she could possibly muster, "Hi, I'm Rachel Berry. Is it okay if I join your club?"

They shake their heads instantly, and stand up simultaneously like programmed robots as they shield their eyes from the blinding rays of sunlight above them. "No," a strawberry-blonde haired girl spits, her obvious dislike for Rachel causes the brunette to take a knowing step back. "You're not allowed to join the club because you're not a princess." The other girls nod in agreement, and Rachel huffs and folds her arms stubbornly.

"How is it that you girls are princesses and I'm not?" She asks, and takes a challenging step forward as her eyebrow arches slightly. "Didn't Ms. Parker say that everyone's the same, and no one is better than anyone? Since when do you guys get to be princesses, if you guys can be princesses, why can't I?"

In what was expected to be a fit of anger, the girls stare at her as if she was a Martian who came to school in a sparkled spaceship. One of the girls shrugs nonchalantly, and then, in a surprisingly warm tone she says, "If you can pretend to ride on a horse like a princess, then we'll let you in." Almost instantly, all of the girls break apart and begin to ride on imaginary horses, wide smiles plastered on their faces.

Rachel stares at them, flabbergasted and at a loss for what to do, and then she shakes her head, sighs and returns to her table, where she'll continue eating alone.

. . .

She's thirteen when she meets Santana Lopez for the first time.

She's sitting on a swing, her feet scuffing her short heels on the ground as she swings back and forth in a playground near her middle school. It's bright - a little too bright, so she has to squint her eyes as she goes up and blinks them as she goes down, and the view from the swing is pleasant, not spectacular or wonderfully captivating or anything epic, it's just a view of a few houses that are pretty and nicely kept on the outside.

Her messy, dark and unkempt locks fly in the air a little as she swings, and there's a peaceful and harmonious atmosphere around her and she almost smiles. She sees a girl with tanned skin and dark eyes and dark hair holding a majestic kite and flying it in the air. Rachel stares at the kite for a while, for a little longer, until the girl catches her staring at her new kite and raises an eyebrow skeptically before standing in front of Rachel with her hands on her hips.

"Listen," she says, laying everything out in the open and refusing to beat around the bush or play along. "Stop staring at my kite like it's a magical wand that has the ability to give you sweaters without weird, creepy animals prancing around like it's on Old MacDonald's farm or something." Rachel looks down at her sweater with kittens lying in clouds, and the girl just rolls her eyes. "If you want to fly my kite, just ask. There's no need for you to stare it down with those eyes of yours."

It's nowhere close to nice, but at least it's an offer. Rachel takes the kite out of the girl's hands and begins to fly it for a while, until the girl's watch starts beeping and she grabs the kite out of Rachel's hands and wheels the kite back to her before placing it under her arm. "Hope you had fun flying my kite," she says, even though her tone suggests otherwise. As the girl begins to grab her bag and leave the playground, Rachel calls out to her. "I'm Rachel Berry, just so you know."

The girl turns around, and raises an eyebrow before sighing. "Just so you shut up, I'm Santana Lopez. Don't forget it," she says before running away and Rachel stares at her for a while before scuffing her feet into the ground again and swinging back and forth.

It turns out that Santana goes to her middle school, and sometimes she'll sit beside her and they'll have a few conversations, and sometimes she'll subtly insult Rachel and Rachel might manage to respond sharply and smartly, and they become sort of friends, but Rachel doesn't think it'll last long.

News flash: it most certainly won't.

. . .

She's facing the ceiling when her breath gets stuck in her throat and can't breathe.

It's terrifying - the way the unfortunate and unwanted events haunt Rachel greedily, she remembers the way she'd be made fun of, pointed at, belittled every three seconds and the way absolutely no one would be there to jump to her rescue (not even Santana; she just watches by the sidelines and pricks her nails, refusing to say anything). She doesn't dare to tell her parents, she's been humiliated enough times and her parents going to the principal's office and making a scene would ruin all chances of becoming liked.

Rachel hates that she has to go to school and listen to the other kids snorting at her derisively and making rude comments and absurd assumptions. She hates that they hold up their noses because there's an overwhelming need to be liked, to be popular and fawned over, to be someone likable, someone people can fear and view as great, amazing - spectacular.

But she's not viewed that way, she's viewed as this decent girl who is kind of attractive but has a fetish for sweaters with animals on them and is quite weird and abnormal but has a great singing voice, but no girl or boy outside of glee even dares to break away from the crowd and talk to her.

She dreads that they'd grin at her when she says something, and how she has to rewind and take a look at her words and wonder what she said wrong. She hates it when they exchange snickering looks and say "never mind; you wouldn't get it, anyways." She wants to remind them that she has feelings, that she's not some programmed robot they can shoo away whenever they feel like it, but then reconsiders it and backs out in the next second.

Rachel gulps back the worries, blinks the thoughts away, and sleeps tries to pretend that nothing happened.

. . .

She's fourteen when she gets slushied for the first time.

Rachel enrolls in William McKinley High School and enters the hallway after missing the first two weeks of the new school year thanks to an unpleasant case of Chicken Pox and right now all she's wearing is a red sweater, a multi-colored skirt and short heels with white leggings. Her hair is a little muzzled, since it got caught in the rain and it was impossible to untangle it as she was running late, and her mascara and makeup is running slightly, and the students are snickering as she walks down the hallway.

Santana notices her, recognizes her immediately and examines her outfit. There are two blonde girls next to her, both are pretty and are wearing matching cheerleading uniforms, and Rachel waves her hands happily as she spots Santana. Santana smiles in return and whispers to the two blondes beside her, and all three of them have blue ice cold drinks in their hands.

Santana walks up to her, and she smiles and Rachel starts asking about the school, and then, in a millisecond, she finds herself covered in cold blue liquid and hears laughter ringing in the air as she gasps for breath, and she runs to the girls' bathroom and wipes the drink on her face. It takes her about a half an hour to get the sticky liquid off her hair, and wipes it off carefully and gulps down, and tears prick in her eyes and her heartbeat quickens.

Multiple feelings swell up inside of her, but the most notable ones are hurt, embarrassment and anger. All of the students smirk at her as she enters class and the teacher just sighs and rolls her eyes and points towards an empty seat at the back and it feels like seventh grade all over again. She glares at Santana at the corner of her eye, and Santana just smiles diabolically and hi-fives with the other girls and Rachel can't believe how much she changed.

Of course she does, people do tend to grow over a few years, and sure she wasn't close to nice when she first met her, but there's absolutely no smile on her face anymore, just a smirk and a few eye-rolls, she's not laughing about something and she's not wearing dresses with jackets and her hair's not let down and wavy and curly. It's in a high ponytail, and she's wearing a red and white uniform and she's sandwiched between those two girls, and she eventually learns that their names are Quinn and Brittany.

Rachel learns there and then that she shouldn't trust anyone in this school since they're all going to stab her in the back eventually.

. . .

She's sixteen when she meets Finn Hudson for the first time, and she thinks he is really cute.

But when she learns that he's seeing popular, pretty, Captain of the Cheerios and President of the Celibacy Club Quinn Fabray, her hope shatters into a million pieces and she looks down at her flats, and whispers, "oh," dejectedly.

She kind of thinks they'd make a cute pair, and thinks she's stupid for still coming on to him so many times, and her head swirls and her heart pounds when he kisses her in the auditorium when they're practicing singing on their own, rainbows don't magically appear, unicorns don't frolic around her mind and colors don't flash before her very eyes or all of that crap, electricity doesn't run through her and there's no amazing smoke around them, it's just them. But there's a hummingbird flapping excessively in her chest and there are little butterflies swirling around her stomach, and she feels so different.

But then Finn stops reluctantly, pulls back and runs out, guilty and terrified. Rachel stares at the door for a moment before sobbing into her hands and looking at her reflection in the girls' bathroom. She thinks not skinny enough, that she's not pretty enough, and maybe, just maybe, if she pukes into sinks and looses all of that unwanted weight; Finn just might dare to hold her hand in public and smile like he has everything he needs in the world. So, she puts her finger in her throat and feels vomit coming up her throat, and she pukes into the sink and feels tears swell up in her eyes and her cheeks are flushed and she feels so terrible.

But she feels prettier, skinnier, and feels like people will look at her and hold back their slushies, and she'd have some friends around her with blond hair and perfectly manicured nails like Santana, and she'd be wearing a cheerleading uniform and look beautiful, and no one would slushy her.

Because not one student dares to slushy Brittany or Santana, even though they're in glee club, because they're so skinny and pretty, and she thinks if she does this enough times, they'll treat her the same way. Maybe if she pukes until she becomes pretty and skinny and gorgeous like them, they'll nod and smile in approval, and she won't get a slushy facial every day.

. . .

She sits in the middle of the class alone, at the back, as usual.

The rumor - it's the truth, Finn's grave expression and his unusual silence and silent nods confirm it - spreads to every single part of the school, and Quinn just shakes her head and trembles a little bit but they don't miss the way her hand "accidentally" travels to her stomach whenever they mention the word "pregnancy" and how quickly she pulls her hands back and examines her perfectly manicured nails nervously.

But there are a lot of questions in her head, like why does Puck keep staring at Quinn at the corner of his eye, and why does Quinn's green eyes travel to him with a wary and almost sorry look on her face? Why does Puck's shoulder always brushes with her gently, and why is she so desperate to remain oblivious to him as she shakily rests her head on Finn's shoulder? She looks at Quinn, not Finn, as she sobs into his shoulder hysterically in the middle of school, by the yellow lockers and as she grips her stomach.

Rachel sighs, and hates how the world's moving up and how she's moving down. Finn tries to get her to rejoin glee out of hopes in winning Regionals to get into a good college to support Quinn, and all she does in return is throw bills at him and yells at him all day, and Rachel has to sit at the sidelines and sigh heavily. She's sitting in the choir room, and she and Quinn are silent, the thick sounds of the environment ringing in the air, and neither of them speaks up for a few minutes.

"Why are you so harsh to him?" Rachel asks after the bracing of her shoulders and the gulping of her breath, and Quinn just looks at her, with an incomprehensible expression and her mouth slightly ajar, Rachel almost repeats her question but Quinn interrupts her, the sharp and cutting words flowing off her tongue almost automatically.

"I'm teaching him that life is tough. He keeps complaining about how hard it is for him, well what about me? Even Puck agrees with me, Puck, someone who has absolutely nothing to do with," She stops talking because she's been talking and blurting out words so quickly she forgets to think before she speaks, and Rachel breathes in as she pricks her nails, gulping.

She doesn't say a word, because really, what's there to say? So instead Rachel just sits at the back of the music room, hums Funny Girl and listens to the sound of Quinn's heavy breathing. Rachel doesn't say a word even though she knows Quinn's hiding something.

. . .

She gets a slap from Santana when she learns and reveals that Puck is the true father of Quinn's baby.

Rachel feels the sting of her hard palm against the cheek, and see's the licks of fury in Santana's eyes, and feels her heartbeat quicken as the Latina stares at her angrily. She demands what the hell was that for, and Santana just crosses her arms and shakes her head, and Rachel suddenly sees images in black and white flashing before her eyes. The sitting alone, the kite, the slushing, the puking and the look on Finn's face and her anger just kicks in, and licks of fury burns in her eyes as well.

"You're an idiot," Santana spits, and she breathes in heavily and continues to shake her head. "You couldn't keep your big mouth to yourself, and look what you did. Winning Sectionals is now out of the questions, you threw our chances of winning out the window. How the hell are we going win with Finn out of glee club? This is your fault- you're whole damned fault and you think that you can fix everything just by saying sorry? News flash, Treasure Trail, sorry doesn't fix anything. Gosh, you are so stupid."

"Go to hell," Rachel replies, and Santana just stares at her. "I don't care if it was my freaking fault, so what? It's better than leaving your friends in the lurch. You're an unreliable, ungrateful, horrible bitch who just thinks the whole world revolves around you. News flash; it doesn't."

"Since when do I leave my friends in the lurch?" Santana asks, and Rachel chuckles bitterly as the hateful image of her first slushy facial fills her mind. "You and I were friends, and what happened? You slushied me on my first day, and I didn't do anything to you. All I did was tell the truth, even Quinn said that, and if you're really her friend, go over there and try to comfort her. At least I say sorry, at least I apologize, you don't, because you're so freaking full of yourself."

"Friends?" Santana snorts derisively and rolls her eyes, folding her arms. "We never were friends; sitting beside you in middle school and lending you my kite doesn't make us friends, Berry." She injects venom into her tone, and Rachel just stares at her, and shakes her head. She grabs her schoolbag, leaves the room, and lies in her bed the next day with dry eyes.

She doesn't cry.

. . .

Rachel feels starry, blurry, and can feel the pieces of her heart shattering and slipping away.

She feels the cracks underneath her, and knows that light is struggling to past through the holes. She stands in front of the stage in Regionals, and she gets a solo in every song and she's dancing with New Directions and Finn's stealing glances at her, and she's kind of smiling again and the crowd dances along with her.

She belts out the lyrics and hits the high notes perfectly, because she's Rachel Berry, a shinning star in the making, a broken angel with cracks that are beginning to heal, and she feels like she doesn't need to stick her finger down her throat to feel beautiful. She doesn't care that she and Santana were never really friends; it was kind of nice while it lasted, but after a while she realizes she doesn't need her.

Rachel hears the meticulous, melodic voices of Puck and Mr. Schuester after Regionals when they're given a second chance in glee club and smiles, and the lyrics of Over the Rainbow makes her feel like bursting into tears. She almost says something, but she pauses, reconsiders, and realizes the moment doesn't need words. The cracks are beginning to heal, and the sun begins to shine down at her and she's back, and a tiny, soft smile finds its way on her lips as she rests her head on Finn's shoulder.

She looks around the room, her head still remaining in position, and feels Finn's hand brushing against hers and she blinks. No one speaks, and they just listen to the sounds of their voices, and hear Santana and Brittany's giggles at the back, hears Quinn's slight laugh, and sees Puck's eyes travel to Quinn a little sneakily, and a soft, relieved sigh is heard from Quinn.

Rachel goes home, and sleeps on her bed swathed in sheets and wakes up and doesn't feel the need to puke, but feels the need to jump. It's slow, fragile, and she's still dangerously breaking a little and is still a work in progress, but she knows somewhere in her heart that she's going to be okay.

She leaves the house, just for a stroll down the playground, and tosses her kite into the trashcan and swings on the swing alone. It's not a bad thing, she's used to being alone, and she doesn't really feel lonely, just content and a little afraid, but she's fine overall.

Rachel feels the cracks fade and the shattered pieces fall and rise.

(She's going to be fine.)

. . .

It's a brand new day.