Time is cruel

Back then...

Back then, when I still knew what hope was

I was young, naive and unexperienced. I really enjoyed being around people. I was very curious about the smallest and most unnecessary things, made researches so I could fill every tiny hole in my knowledge that I expected to be filled.

But there was one activity that I admired. And I would't exaggerate if I said that this activity was as natural for me asbreathing. It was was my passion back in those days.

Dancing.

I enjoyed doing it with all of my heart.

You know, I have never been very good at expressing my feelings properly. I think that was one of the reasons why I started doing it.

You may think I'm crazy, but have you ever seen a dancer, a real dancer performing on stage? You get goosebumps everytime you watch them perform. Do you know why? Because they tell a story. They try to convey a story just with their body movements. They are flowing and connect all the little pieces to one whole breath taking story. You are feeling what they feel, you are literally trapped in their world, and this is the best feeling besides being the dacing one on stage.

I don't want to be full of myself, but I was actually a pretty good dancer. My mom and a lot of my friends from the dance studio I was dancing at tried everything to convince me to compete. Or even at least show the people what I was capable of. They told me not to hide my talent.

Well, I still refused every single time. I have never strived for the big stage. Like seriously, as long as I had a room where I could make one step in every direction and there was a mirror in it, I would have been totally fine. Don't get me wrong, I loved being able to follow my passion but I just never wanted my whole life to be about it.

Dance helped me to stay in peace with myself. There was no pressure, no expectations. I could escape the world for just a few minutes, but it was defenitly worth it.

Soon enough my mom let it go. She couldn't force me and she also realised that I was happy with how things were. She was that kind of mom to be happy, when her children are. So she let me be and I made my thing work.

But looking back in time, I wish my mom pushed a little bit longer. Maybe she would have been able to convince me. Maybe if I went to competitions, I wouldn'thave met her.

Maybe things wouldn't be the way they are right now, but unfortenately time already made its steps.

And saying that time is cruel is, at least in my opinion, a bit mild, because time is actually a big, fat bitch.