I’ve never been categorized as an emotionally fragile girl and to think I am makes me hate the idea. My geographic teacher says “hate” is a very strong word, that it means that if my object of hatred lived, I’d kill it. I’m a non violent person, however, in this case if this idea lived, I would….kill it, I mean. So I guess hate fits the situation in an outstanding manner.
I talk about being in touch with out inner true selves in a non new era way constantly. But what if I’m the biggest hypocrite of all? Sometimes I feel myself rolling downhill trapped in a mud land slide composed of outsiders’ ideas and likings. Ballet seems to be my life, and I already set my mind to do that every afternoon on my senior year…but is that what I’d really enjoy? I mean…no one’s pressuring me to do it, but I feel like I must prove I can achieve it…When I’m falling asleep at night, a dim shooting star travels through the corners of my brain, suggesting maybe I could embrace many other hobbies (combined with ballet, that is) that would makes me happy(er). Instead of my inner organs auto destroying themselves by the pressure and stress of ballet, maybe I could volunteer at the zoo, a shelter, or a hospital, maybe I could work, too. Maybe I’d like to be able to get home and instead of preparing myself mentally for hours of ballet, I could go for a run in a nearby park. I’m not much of a runner but oh how I miss running at the park in my hometown in Mexico.
The problem is that as my hamster in my brain is watching in awe as this shooting star of wonder’s traveling through my brain, a meteorite full of “ballet’s my life, I love it, it’s the only constant thing in my life” appears…and then it’s too much for my poor hamster and it collapses having an epilepsy attack. And that point’s when I decide I’ll just go to sleep and push the mini galaxy war aside.
I love the burning sensation in my muscles as I developé, each pop in my joints and the blissful glee of dancing. Also in all my vain glory, I admit I care about my body shape and oh boy has ballet helped it. I’d never had so many guys staring at me before, and I’d never before been said to have an enviable figure. So yeah…leaving ballet scares the fur out of my hamster with images of flacid muscle and skin invading my head.
Would I be able to maintain my physique, not to mention my sane mind and insides if I took ballet as a hobby alternating it with other exercises, volunteering and work? Maybe by sticking stubbornly to dedicating myself to ballet I’m trying to make myself into a dedicated, centered, beautiful ballerina. Instead of embracing my true self. How am I? What do I love? What has made my life happy and enjoyable since I was little?…not something that I made myself like to be someone else… I love animals, children, cooking, Redding, writing (duh!), singing and yes dancing…but for the love of it not for trying to prove myself valuable to a frustrated teacher. I’m 18 years old! I’m in high school, I’m supposed to be getting to know guys, hanging out with friends and being more care free. Not snapping my brain into pieces, not to mention my whole digestive system.
Going back to the emotional fragile issue…not being able to handle all this makes me want to try even harder and prove myself good enough. This is too contradictory, the human mind is a dangerous place I’m telling you. I would know. My dad says I love challenges and maybe that’s why. It’s like when some guy’s teasing you, getting your attention and then playing kinda hard to get. Yep, even though girls hate it, it makes us want it more. Dancing played that trick on me…it made me like it, depend on it, teased me by letting me get better than many quicker but only to play hard to get on me by not letting me able to handle the stress of it all.