I needed to write down a 'thing' that addressed my feelings about ballet. Well, I didn't do that. I started writing about my teachers and my self conciousness and wanting honest critiques instead of well whatever they were giving me-it turned into this..
Ballet
Please don’t look at me. Don’t touch me. Don’t say hurting words to me. Don’t sting me with your scorn, I do that enough myself already. I don’t need your help. You only re-inforce my own hate. Don’t tell me my dreams are foolish, or that they are dying. Don’t say my hope is in vain. Don’t laugh in the face of my earnestness. I don’t wanna play that game. I hate it when you look at me. Feeling naked and exposed. I don’t like to be looked at, it makes me wonder about your thoughts. I like compliments, but I doubt their sincerity. I fear conceit and vanity yet crave attention. I am in opposition to myself. I understand everything but get nothing. My armor isn’t well working, my emotions are barely guarded, my pain is bottled up just barely beneath the surface. Don’t touch me, don’t look at me, don’t praise me. Praise gives me hope and joy- that the next day will be dashed. Throwing me into a sprial of anguish.
Don’t hate me don’t scorn me. Don’t speak to me, don’t ignore me. Just be honest. Please.
Oddly that had everything and nothing to do with ballet!
