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"Well you are balancing on one leg right now. You were the whole time I was talking." He stated as his hand and eyes referred downwards towards where my leg was.
"Also you have ballet related stickers on your water bottle. Obvious isn't it." He spoke again adding a chuckle.
"Okay okay... you caught me." I admitted as I nodded my head.
A sudden sound of a buzzing pang came from my bag. I reached down to grab my phone in my bag, I then turn it on to see a call. It's a call from the studio. The buzzing came to an silence only for a text to pop up on the screen. It was my mom.
- Where are you?
- You are supposed to be at dance. Why are you still at the library?
I'd glance up at the boy in front of me, whose name I don't even know. Well he may have been the sole reason of why is still here. No, no it's me I'm always the problem. I left the boy without a goodbye. With no time nor hesitation I dashed straight ahead towards the library door. As I swung the door open. I was harshly invited by the site of abounding rain drops cascading down on our mother Earth.
Taking a deep inhale before I stepped out the door, I ran and ran, pacing continuously. Until I felt a sudden sharp pang of pain, causing me to stop my tracks. I bent down holding my nee, in attempts to abirrritate the pain. I hissed due to the pain, feelings of frustration yet abashment towered over me. If anything I probably look like a mauther idiot right now. The scent of the damp earth filled my nose. I was drenched, completely soaked to the bone due to the pounding rain. But I could care less, all I cared about was reaching the studio. Limping along, I pushed past the pain and the rain, trailing off.
Finally I entered the building lobby, I could feel the slight temperature change as I stepped inside. Taking a tiny peek in the the studio room, everyone was already in the studio warming up. Making my way towards the bathroom for a quick change into my ballet wear. I rushed changing into my light pink tights, pulling up my jet-black leotards. Parting my hair into the famous classical ballet bun. Quickly applying gel to my hair, as I make final adjustments as I finally finished. I then slathered a great amount of tiger balm of my nee, sending a galore of prayers that it'll get better.
While we rehearsed relentlessly for hours, first I was drench in rain water now sweat if this can't get any more disgusting. My feet started to feel numb, as I began to stand around with my point shoes half way on my feet. It wasn't too long until that sharp pain came back spreading again. Of course like any ballet dancer I tired to ignore it. Until I got teary-eyed. A sat down in the corner of the room in boredom, I observed everyone and the choreography finally rehearsal came to an end. I then stood up slowly walking over to gather my belongings. Throwing on my cover ups over heading towards the door.
With ease I walked carefully towards my mother's white sliver car. Opening the door as I settle in. She then stares at me for a few seconds, the silence was broken.
"You okay?" She questioned with a bit of concern in her voice.
"I was just walking and I busted my nee it's happened before like last time." I answered.
"Was it the hyper-extension." She asked as she look down at my leg.
"Probably." I replied, while glanced down towards my knee is disappointment. I felt so exhausted and numb, dull and empty for some reason.
As I arrived home I immediately showered myself, the flowing water doing an absersion for my mentality. But that didn't last too long. As I finished up I took a good look at myself in the mirror. That was when I started to think, I started to question. I knew for sure I was beautiful. But was I beautiful, beautiful enough for ballet? Is my body abortive to ballet? Ballet is said to be abstruse to the human body, almost esoteric. I'm so tired, exhausted. Looking at my back I could see my back acne it was coming back, It only added to my pile of insecurity. As my storming thoughts continued to spiral. Before you knew it salty tears ran free escape from my eyes, gleaning down my face. It wasn't pretty nor ugly, but it was an imperfectly perfect genuine cry.
She is a ballerina she must be perfect.
She is a girl she must be pretty.
I am a ballerina and I seek perfection, yet I am human and imperfect.
