The Summer Olympics, early August
There are moments that you spend your entire life imagining.
This is one of those.
Standing atop the podium for the women's gymnastics all around at the Olympics in my sparkly red leotard. Leaning my head down to accept the rather heavy gold medal. Putting my hand on my heart as the Star Spangled Banner plays.
I always thought that I would be on top of the world.
Instead, I don't feel anything. I'm not happy, not sad, not even remotely emotional. It all feels like it's happening to somebody else, and I'm just watching. The only thing reminding me that I am actually here is the misplaced pin stabbing the back of my head.
I win five gold medals at those Olympics: team, all around, vault, bars, and beam. But I don't feel anything during any of those competitions. I have never been one to get nervous, and the Olympics didn't prove to be any different. Each routine just feels like going through the motions, one video shows that I didn't even remember to point my toes during my pirouette on beam. When my name tops the leaderboard, I can hear the cheering and force myself to smile, but I'm still emotionally blank. Every award ceremony passes in a whiz, so much that I struggle to recall any of it.
Everything feels like it's just a performance, or a dream of some sort.
I have worked for most of my life to get here, and I am here, and I'm accomplishing everything I ever dreamed of. But I feel empty.
Because without gymnastics - without my hopes and dreams - who am I?
YOU ARE READING
Hopes and Dreams
Teen FictionMany dream of going to the Olympics. At sixteen years old, Samantha Pearce was one of the lucky few. And she didn't just go to the Olympics, she won the thing, with gold medals in five of the six women's artistic gymnastics events. But what happens...
