Dancing On In My Heart

Because this picture posted by Momisodes brought back a lot of memories, I decided to go through that old box on my top most shelf of my shoe shelf which kept what was once very, very precious to me.
It all started one boring summer when I was 9. Tired of art workshops and the lack of a decent swimming pool in our city, my Mom decided to enroll me in ballet class. Everyday for 2 months, I would diligently attend a one hour class at a dance studio. When classes started, I started to feel that dancing ballet was a part of me. So I asked my Mom that I continue dancing.

Danced I did. When I was 11, I had my first ballet recital. But it was only when I turned 12 did I take dancing seriously. My ballet teacher informed me I was ready for pointe class. I was so happy! For the past 3 years, I only watched ballerinas on their toes with their pointe shoes pirouetting and perfecting their forme.

Ballet was all that mattered. I watched what I ate, I made sure I did not get too heavy, I grew my hair long so that I could easily pull it up into a bun. I was disciplined. I learned how to concentrate and focus. I would dance after class, when I got home. I would dream of the dance steps. I had so much respect for the art and I loved my pointe shoes. I would plaster my toes before wearing them, my toes would bleed - the bigger my smile would be. I was working hard at it. The audience didn't really matter, I didn't care about the blaring lights on stage-- all I wanted to do was dance.

Before long, I wore out my first pair. And then I got another.

Until I found another love.

I danced for 5 years. It remains close to my heart and will remain to be.