I am a dancer.

An artist.

 

I take the stage..

 

 

My bare feet plant themselves on the smooth marley flooring

 

My muscles loosen as I take the first breath

 

 

The music begins..

 

With synchronicity I leap across the stage, tumble to my knees

 

Beating my body to blue bruises I lay my heart on my chest so everyone can see it

 

 

My skin scrapes on the tape that glues the panels of floor together

 

Tears of pain and frustration mist my eyelashes as I throw my body into the movements..

 

 

One pirouette.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

I fall out of my turns and plummet to the floor again like a falling angel from heaven

 

 

Will my body ever stop from tearing itself apart in graceful movement?

 

 

No.

 

This is my life.

 

 

I will wear my body down until I tear myself to mere shreds of the person I was

 

 

This is the only lifestyle I know.

 

 

I drop to my knees, rake my hand through my hair - or whatever this slick bun would allow - inside my body, I am screaming for help..

 

Dancing is my only escape..

 

 

Dancing is a starving art..

 

The hunger I deny..

 

The pain..

In my muscles..

In my bones..

In my arms and legs..

 

The burning in my lungs begging for a gasp of fresh air..

 

My dry tongue longing for a drop of water to barely keep me going..

 

 

It all hurts..

 

But it is all I know.

 

 

This pain..

This suffering..

 It's all for the sake of art..

 

 

This struggle and strife..

It keeps me happy in life..

 

 

For in every weakness I possess..

In every fall I take..

In every injury I compress..

In every misstep I make..

 

In my hard work there is dedication.

Beauty.

Love.

 

In my vulnerability,

There is strength.