Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Abandoned Passion

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
I trudged into the hot ballet studio with the burning fluorescent lights for probably the millionth Saturday of my life.  And for probably the tenth time that day I asked myself why do I put myself through this?  See every Saturday starts the same for me: waking up at the crack of dawn, eyes still half closed as I pulled my ragged, sleep mussed hair into a slicked back bun. And driving, not caring about speed limits or stop signs to the studio.  My teacher, Ms. Willow  walked into the room, her overly cheerful attitude which we all knew was an act for our parents, made me want to just slap her across the face.  Not new thoughts, oh no, these fantasies had be stuck in my mind for months.
“Who is excited and ready to work!” She exclaimed.
Ugh the sarcasm in her voice.  I’m am definitely not ready to work. I was not always like this, unwilling to work.  I tried to change the way I felt: staying after to work on skills, smiling even when I didn’t want to, and giving into the old feeling of just dancing my heart out.  But I just can’t anymore.  She taught us the too complicated to remember, useless plie combination and we began the normal 6 hour rehearsals.  I glanced around at the other girls.  Smiles filled their faces as they danced their hearts out.  Their eyes and souls were filled with passion, the same way mine used to be.   My ballet steps were perfect, no question about it, but the light that powered the steps of my friends and fellow dancers, didn’t power mine anymore.  It had been shut out for awhile.  I didn’t even notice when the music shut off and the combination ended.  It was like my body was on autopilot, ending in 5th position like it had done for the last 5 years.  
  “That was okay.” Ms. Willow said, a little frown on her wrinkled face.  
My friend Nicole  standing behind me at the barre gave me a sympathetic look.  We had been dancing together for years now and she could tell that I was not in the mood.
  “Are you doing okay?”  She asked as she stretched her feet for the next combo. 
“I will be after this.”  She looked like she understood, anyone could tell my Saturdays were coming to an end.  A quick flick of the eyes to my teacher showed the same realization in her eyes.  Maybe Ms. Willow remembers all the winnings, smiles, and glory as she looked at me, her old, praised little dancer.    The girl she thought would go so far is not part of my body anymore.  She has been buried in the back of the closet with every trophy, medal, and ribbon.  The pictures of that little girl in her solo costumes with her proud teacher hugging her have long been placed in the back of her mother's scrapbook.  That little girl had those eyes, hungry, wanting to be the best.  Now my eyes stare back at me in the mirror, too tired to try.  My heart is numb as I go through the tendu combination. 
“Pull up Ava, point harder, no no that’s not it.”  I hear vaguely.  The corrections seem to go over my head.  My stubborn nature not allowing my body to correct itself.  I won’t give into the old urge to please the teacher.  It’s just so hard when all love seems to be gone. Only one more month, I remind myself.  The end of the year is always on my mind, I’m ready for the end.  And for that little girl who used to love this sport, I will survive until then. 






Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback