Ballerina in the dark【Mia】

Ballerina in the dark

 I can hear the crowd clamoring in excited tones. The show seems to start in an hour, but I can't do my usual exercise. I just look at the sequins on my costume and wait for the time to pass. Breanna stares at me with a dubious look on her face and talks to me "Amelia, You always have something in your mind". Amelia answers, "I don't", about to say so, Breanna says "It's okay. You are the best dancer and I’m always the second" and Breanna goes out into the corridor for a drink of water. Stretching out my legs, I move my toes one by one. Each time I do, my red, swollen little toe and broken fingernail hurt. I hate myself for wearing glamorous outfits and smiling awkwardly as if my worries are nothing on the stage.

When I was three years old, my mother took me to my first ballet studio. I just spread my legs out to the side and competed for that angle with the next girl whose name I didn't even know. When I came to, 15 years had passed. I was so immersed in the world of ballet that I feel I did not have what is known as adolescence. Even when my friends went to the library to study together and plan the strategy, or when they dressed up gorgeously to go to the nightclub, I always had to wear my black-colored smooth, and uncomfortable leotard to dance practice.

When I arrive at the hot studio swirling with ballerina fervor and jealousy, everyone is practicing in the mirror. They are simply facing themselves. As I look at my other self in the mirror and imagine what it would be like if I had not become a ballet dancer. I thought about quitting ballet many times. And then I wondered what would be left of me if ballet disappeared from my life. Breanna walked away with a practice bag with a big pink enamel ribbon slung over her shoulder, saying she had a date with her boyfriend today. If only I could dance ballet as comfortably as she does. How much better I would feel if I could rest a little. I envy her for being able to do everything to the point. I looked at the bag with the little ballet shoe patches my mother had made for me when I was a little girl and wept.

The lights on the stage illuminate only me. I am horrified that the lights shining on me seems to see through my true feelings. I dance like a puppet as if life is already decided. Every time I dance, I feel as if there is a string connected to the stage that clings to my body and won't let go. But I can't let it bother me. The applause never stoppes. The faces of the audience seem like they all wearing masks made of ceramic. But I can't let them bother me. Until the curtain falls, I will always be a perfect ballerina on the stage.