For The Second Time
One thing that I have always stuck to is that dance and dance class had always been different for me. Dance was and still is something that I truly enjoy and feel the passion for in my bones. Dance class, was another story completely. Dance was the brightest light in my life, but towards the end of my dance journey, it became one of the darkest moments as well.
My self-esteem was at an all-time low and I could not even recognize myself. Compromising my schedules and my ideas for others was what eventually made me break and there are no words to describe how I felt at that point. It was as if someone had just picked apart every bit of self-confidence and respect I had for myself and shredded it right in front of myself.
When I finally quit dance, after years of contemplating it, I thought the worst was over. I convinced myself that I would never put myself in such a situation again.
But no, here I am again, 2 months away from completing my Final Year Project.
A phone smashed against the wall, a screaming argument with my mother and bawling my eyes out for almost 20 minutes. That was almost an hour ago. And my hand is still shaking. I do not recognize myself anymore. For the second time in my life, I genuinely wonder if I actually needed medical help to get myself together. For the second time, I fear what I would do to myself. For the second time, I am disgusted and afraid of myself.
