The Real Diary

Entry no. 15

What?

Am I crying?

Again?

Or is it the water from the shower I'm in?

Or is the shower crying for me?

That's what I thought as I sat in my small bathtub, curled up,

My atrociously thin arms clinging onto my naked self,

With a strong kind of weakness,

My long, awkward legs are tucked in uncomfortably to my stomach, so they too can be under the warm water,

And my sticking-out-backbone is in an arc, from the bottom of my spine to the top of my neck, I'm worse than a hunchback,

My head rests on my knobby knees,

My sore, blistered, injured feet are curled up so I can't see them, they're too disgusting to be seen,

And lastly, the hot water from the shower beats on my back and legs, the only soothing thing,

It lets me ponder things such as the non-existing meaning of my life,

But even if someone saw me in that vulnerable position- which would've been awkward to say the least- they would've had no idea just how much pain- physically and emotionally- I was in.

An explanation is needed, perhaps.

Among many things that I do in my life, (including writing, drawing and singing, to name a few,) the thing I do the most, and offer the most dedication to, is my ballet.

There's where the problem lays, I guess.

Aha, bet you weren't expecting that!

To put it simply, it's a beautiful kind of torture.

Half the time I hate it, and while I dance, instead of enjoying it, I'm more worried about not messing up so the director doesn't shout at me.

What I have is a strict Russian training. Everyday, 8 hours or more non-stop rehearsals. And I'm not even that good, the worst in the troop, as my director kindly keeps reminding me.

Why do I keep going there? I'm not sure, I love dancing.. And I have more chances of getting somewhere with it if I train in this way, since I haven't got any natural talent for it, (something else my director is kind enough to tell me continuously).

But heck, I don't even know why I keep staying here, in this world, if you get my drift.

It's impossible to explain how my confidence has completely disappeared, and the reason why I don't find a "nicer" ballet school, it would be even harder to quit going there though. Nearly impossible, it's become a part of my life.

And what do my parents think of it all? Well, they don't forbid me from going, but they're not happy either.

If I complain to them, they remind me every time it was my choice... And let me know I'm wasting my time because I'll never be good at it because I'm not made for ballet apparently.

So their lack of support doesn't help, and my friends think I'm absolutely crazy.

Anyway, things have been more intense lately because a performance is coming up, (Giselle, in case anyone is familiar with ballet).

Only six days to go, actually.

Only? Hah.

I feel like I'm about to die, I'm so tired, I'm sick because I don't get nearly enough rest comparing with the amount of work I do. I have to pretend I'm fine. I've injured my feet but I have to pretend like I haven't or else I'll get in trouble, and definitely get kicked out of the show that I've been waiting and training to be in for 2 years.

I'm dreading it, I want to get it over with, but at the same time I'm absolutely over the moon.

Am I weird? Am I strange?

Of course, no question.

Which sane person would go through what I'm going through to achieve practically nothing?

But I'm wasting too much water now, so I guess I should end this boring entry, along with my lovely shower,

And go to bed,

I have a long day, and week, ahead of me.