Lesbianism as a Religion

It's been a very interesting few weeks (hence why I haven't updated this since... March, wow). I'll delve into more of that later, but for now, I want to talk about something that's really bothering me.

There's this girl. She has feelings for me, apparently. She's also Christian (not a problem, as long as she's cool with the fact that I'm an atheist, I'm cool with the fact that she's not). But because of her personal view of Christianity and God, she views being a lesbian as a sin.
Sunday evening, she IMs me. We talk. A lot. Mostly about God. Mostly about how she's sinning by having feelings for me. I tell her upfront I don't believe homosexuality is a sin. I tell her that, since I stopped believing in God before I stopped believing in Santa Claus, I'm probably not the best person to try and help her understand her religion. But, in my mind, this is how it goes:
1. God made humans in His image
2. God is responsible for who you are, as a person, because He made you to be that way
3. You are gay
4. God must want you to be gay
5. God would not want you to sin
6. Homosexuality must not be a sin
I think she understood what I was saying. At the very least, by the end of the hours-long conversation, she seemed to be feeling better. Her existential-turning-into-suicidal crisis seemed to be just existential again (which is good, because I can only deal with hearing "I have feelings for you, and that's a sin, so I want to die," so many times before I start hearing the subtle undertone of "It's your fault I'm suicidal"). Yet every night since Sunday, we've talked and discussed and debated and argued. She still believes she's sinning by being herself (a pain I can not imagine).
Last night, she told me she wanted to stop being friends. Not really wanted. The conversation went something along the lines of "Homosexuality is a sin. The temptation of homosexuality is just like the temptation to drink, or any other temptation to sin. I must avoid temptation by any means necessary, including cutting my friends out of my life."
Now don't get me wrong. This girl is cute, and although I barely know her, I'd like to get to know her better, at least as a friend (something I feel almost guilty for, because I think what intrigues me most about her is this spiritual, contradictory dichotomy). But I understand that right now, she needs to do what's best for herself. If that's staying in the closet, that's okay by me. If that's cutting me out of her life so staying in the closet is easier, I'm not going to argue. I've been in my share of closets during my life. They're never permanent, but while they last, they feel pretty damned safe. So I tell her okay. And I sign offline to do some homework.
Cut to this morning (or was it afternoon?). I'm just waking up when there's a knock on my door. Thinking it's Shelley (who I had to wake up this morning to take a mutual friend to the ER) I say, "Hello?" The door opens. It's this girl.
I'm laying in bed, naked except for my underwear. She seems embarrassed, not for me, but for herself. But once I'm dressed, she follows me around campus.
We IM each other throughout the day. We say goodnight fairly early, because after two weeks of not sleeping before sun-up, I'm damned tired. But I'm still awake and online at 2 AM, and she messages me again. It goes something like this (actually, it goes exactly like this, as I'm copy-pasting):

Me: I just read the best comment war EVER about the civil marriage bill being challenged. One person, clearly against civil marriage equality, wrote: "You gays ought to be ashamed! Cats can't mate with dogs! It's unnatural!" The only response: "Cats and dogs are different species." I almost just laughed myself out of bed.
Her: I honestly think it best if I am going to not cut off our friendship we don't talk about orientation (at this point, I should probably have done the Internet-equivalent of smiling and nodding, but damned if I'm going to be ashamed of who I am, or censor myself for a friend. That's not what friendship is about, in my book. Mostly, though, I think I responded the way I did because I'm tired, and cranky).
Me: Well, the marriage equality bill is a huge part of my life. I've given up on sleep, proper eating habits, even classes from time to time to work on getting it passed. And the referendum campaign means that until September, at least, it's going to continue being a huge part of my life. I'm not ashamed of being queer. And I'm not going to hide it.
Her: But for me it hurts, okay? I'm amazed I made it through this past week alive (warning alarms started going off in my head at this point; it's hard enough handling my own suicidal tendencies. I don't need to have another girlfriend with the same problem). If this means I have to cut off our friendship...
Me: I can understand that you're in pain. I know that. But, just as I don't want my friends to have to censor themselves around me, I don't want to censor myself around them. I want to have my friends be completely comfortable with me, and I want to be completely comfortable with them. If you need to not be friends with me, I understand.
Her: It's not to say that I don't want to be friends, just that I need my space.
Me: Then take it. I'm not forcing you to spend time with me or talk to me. I've purposefully tried to make sure you are always the one to start a conversation, so that I know you feel comfortable talking. But I am not going to hide who I am. It's just not something I can do. Just like you would probably be uncomfortable or hurt if a friend asked you to pretend you weren't Christian while you were around them.
Her: I guess this is goodbye.

This conversation, and being apparently cut out of her life, is hurting me a lot more than it should. I mean, I'm not romantically interested in her (I might have been, if I wasn't censoring myself in my own head to keep myself and others safe from my psychoses). And honestly, I barely know her. I basically met her two weeks ago. But damn, it hurts. Am I grieving for a lost friendship? No. There was barely an acquaintance there. I can see myself grieving for whatever friendship might have eventually blossomed, though (despite the fact that I try quite hard to live in the ever-present, ever-changing "NOW," let's face it--humans look either to the past or the future, and my past is so dark I'm not sure I can actually see it anymore).
I thought I was past the point in my life where I allowed myself to feel hurt when someone chose to judge me based on my labels, not on who I actually am. Granted, that's not what she's doing. She's judging anyone who identifies as queer based on her own self-confidence and coming-out (or staying-in, I suppose) issues.
I feel like this shouldn't hurt.
I have a feeling that "should" doesn't matter right now.

Once again, I'm not good enough (was I ever? Except for Ian--who, let's face it, didn't exactly raise the bar too high--if you were alive, had a vagina, and were afraid of him, he'd fuck you--was I ever good enough except for him?).
God. Damn. It.