"It's my love story. " I started.
I know what you must be thinking. So much toture just because of a guy? But all I can tell you is, yes.
So much sadness just because of a guy.
Because he wasn't any other guy. He was my guy. Lucas.
That fair skin, those brown eyes, that shiny black hair. Lucas looked like the dream fiction character but that is not the reason I fell for him. Though I accept, it was an advantage.
I giggled as I said that and wiped my tears. My story hadn't started yet and I was already crying.
I am an orphan. I was raised in an orphanage where I thought happiness was the extra loaf of bread you used to get for Christmas. I thought love was when people came to donate us things. That was my life. And I was surviving. Not living, surviving.
When I entered my teens, just like you have, I started having my hobbies. I loved dancing. It was my escape. Every step, every beat, felt like a story I wanted the world to hear. At nights when I felt alone I would pull my hands up in the sky then bring them back to my chest as if I was embracing me and I'd do a swirl. And surprisingly it didn't feel that lonely anymore.
During my happy days, I'd jump in air and act as if I was running on air. My legs apart, the right hand following the right leg, and left following the left. And it would feel like I just spread my happiness to the world through this air.
So yes. That's how I started communicating through dance. In my school ,the rich children would learn their dance forms and me, well I never really had a dance form. I just performed, to the beats of my heart that were followed by the steps of my body. Dance was my only friend. Until one fine morning.
