I Hate It.

I am a truly terrible, awful immoral person because when I went to dance I found out my teacher is out for two weeks. And I was glad.

She's probably really sick but I'm happy. Immoral, awful, terrible, truly.

Having Cindy instead, being able to not be afraid of the sound of my name, being able to work hard without the ballet boot camp mentality, makes me happy. Makes me think I'll be okay if I go to class this week. It means I won't spend next Tuesday and Thursday afternoon telling Alex about how much I'm dreading it. It means I won't question my sanity, won't question why I even bother to go anymore. It means I won't have to hold my tongue, when she threatens to demote me; not say that I wouldn't even care.

I hate Nutcracker because it's the only reason I stay. I hate Nutcracker because I love it so much. I hate that my determination at rehearsals forces me to show up for class.

I hate that I won't leave until Jacquie will look me in the eye and tell me I did a good job. I won't leave until she finally tells me I have a beautiful arabesque, that my feet are nicer than Britney's and that I am a dancer. It won't ever happen but that doesn't mean it's not true. It just means I'm a stronger dancer because I'll be trained to not rely on admiration but to consume criticism.

I hate that because we are so strong it makes us ballet dancers. I hate that it is the pure difference between our discipline and other forms of dancing like jazz, contemporary, tap or hip hop.

I hate it.