I am so sorry about the last post. I meant most of what I said, except for the quitting parts. I will keep Plies alive, but I can't post everyday. I am definitely keeping up ballet classes. After taking my first summer ballet class yesterday, I replenished the aching part of my body. My mind clouded with thoughts as my pique turns got faster and faster. Eventually, I did a semi-double without falling over. That's a first for me. My body does not like turning.

Thank you so much for all of the warm comments. I have never felt more cyber-loved. I know that I am not strong enough for pointe, but I just want to be. Because that other girl has never been nice, I felt like she didn't deserve them, you know?

Will return,
Rebecca

a depressing matter

Hi. I am writing this post while I am on vacation because it needs to be written. Other posts have written about the general matter, but this post is coming from my heart. I woke up this morning in tears because my feelings were so strong.

Last night at a Fourth of July party, a fellow dancer came up to me. She is quite younger than me, very immature, but she has amazing feet. She asked me when I was getting my pointe shoes. I told her the truth, this fall or winter if I work hard. She responded in a snotty way, "I am getting mine Thursday." Now, you must understand, my dance teacher is so kind, she sends out an email saying who will get their pointe shoes, so that no other dancers have the shock in class. I was told of three dancers getting their pointe shoes by my mom several weeks ago at home. When this dancer told me of this, I was shocked, and it was all I could do not to burst out in tears.

It's not selfish. You might not understand, but I've worked harder than that dancer. No doubt I am happy for her, but it's just depressing.

I sometimes doubt if ballet is worth all of the heartbreak. Maybe I'll quit after summer term. I don't know. Maybe this is just one little speed bump in life that has flattened my tire. Will I wrangle enough courage to put the spare on? Or will I wait for someone to rescue me?

Dancing is heartbreak. As long as I dance, my heart will break. After I get my pointe shoes, there will still be more instances. Why me? Why couldn't my mom have put me in ballet class when I was two? It's not her fault. I have so many thoughts spewing out of my fingers.

Alone in this messy room, I feel small and weak. I have a voice telling me it;s not worth it. "Why don't you just stop the painful mornings of prepointe? Throw away that theraband. Just throw out your ballet bag and never return to classes!"

My face is damp with tears. It took so much guts to write that. Ballet is hard, but that's why I do it. No one knew about these hidden feelings, but now you do. I had them all bottled up inside. I had to let it out. If I told one of my ballet friends, it would get around and make a huge fight with that one dancer. If I told a non-ballet friend, he/she wouldn't understand and would flip out over my tears. If I told my mom, she would make me do something I didn't want to do. Talk to that other dancer. That's the last thing I want to do. I never want to see her face again. She's moving in a few weeks. This may sound horrifyingly horrific, but I can't wait. Her brother is one of the sweetest boys I've ever met, but she has been nasty and rude ever since I met her.

I hate ballet. I love it, also.

I'm sorry I ever promised to keep up with posts. I knew I couldn't. I might not ever again. I might come back, once a week, month, year, but I'm not sure. For now, I just want to curl up in a corner and die. I love the 3 people who read my blog with all of my heart, and I will cherish you forever.

Goodbye.