Waiting for the crash

Sorry I haven’t been around- I had a bad couple of days, and then my friend came to see me because she was worried about be. She’s awesome.

The raging fire inside continued. I finished the dance school as the economic crash happened in 2009, so there were no jobs for us dancers. I had a choice- give up again, or move on and try another dance course. Again my boyfriend was in there, persuading me to give up and get a real job or go back to school- preferably go back to school, because I had a brain and I could make something of myself.

There was some little spark of rebellion in me, though- I got a place on a postgraduate ballet course that would last for a year.

Boy did his attitude change when I started doing well. The staff (apart from one, but there’s always one fruitcake) really liked me and pushed me hard. I got given a lot of parts in the tour. The other girls, especially the Japanese girls, were really nice, and there wasn’t that air of bitchiness that had been the trademark of the first ever ballet school I’d been to. I was really really genuinely happy, and when we did go on tour, we were treated as professionals, and not as naughty children, for the first time I could remember.

My boyfriend was suddenly very supportive. He stopped being quite as obstructive, and seemed to be genuinely pleased for me. When we went out to meet my mum for tea when she was in London on business, he was actually pleasant to her and they finally seemed to be getting on well. I couldn’t have been happier.

I finished the year in joint second place with my Japanese friend, and we said our farewells and promised to keep in touch. I went home, passed the most difficult ballet exam offered by the method I do in two weeks. I seemed to be on fire.

However, then the year of difficulty started, and nothing was that simple any more.

I had friends before that. I had a life, and I had the ability to speak to people without walking on eggshells, and I could say the words “I love you” without feeling like I was lying with a forked tongue.

I could trust my own mind better, and I was far less broken.


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