April 2011
^^^
i’m on the phone with my best friend. she called me, after her show. she’s with a cast mate. she’s high as a kite.
i don’t recognize this person.
i still wonder..
just look at us a year ago.
i miss you a year ago.
End of 4.
i’m so tired of failing.
ballet is my glue.
i can only imagine what i would have done if i hadn’t started again.
Here.
I always tried to wait, until I hadn’t eaten for a day, to reward myself. I realized I make no progres, I have no will, and the only way to push myself was to do it.
This is me in my utmost reality: loathing, seething, trembling, hiding.
A [young] girl dying from disease of sadness.
She clings to it for dear life. Disallowing her awesome and mighy God to protect her, to take the pain away. Though she believes profoundly, she pushes away the only comfort, her eternal Father, can give her.
She hides away her vulnerable self, in hopes that if she ignores this messed up being, it won’t exist.
My reality.
