255. Dance: Write about a dancer or a time you remember dancing.
They called her beautiful. They called her perfect. They praised the flawless extension of her legs and the delicate flutter of her fingertips when her body was pulled taut holding a pose while only balanced on her toes. They called her beautiful.
But she wasn't born that way. They called her beautiful like she was lucky, but she wasn't lucky.
They didn't know about the bruised and blackened skin of her abused feet. They didn't know how she had once broken a toe and how she was up on it sooner than she should have been, just to compete for her ballet school. They didn't know how tightly she had bound her breasts in 9th grade to keep them flat. They didn't know how she had forcefully deformed her knees to make her leg straight and how she was certain to have arthritis later for it in life. They called her beautiful like they understood the sacrifices she had made for this life.
Some would say that the deformities she had forced upon her body for her sport weren't worth it. She didn't recall considering anyone else's opinion worthy of matter. Who was to tell her what mattered to her? Even a child knows when it wants something.
But the biggest lie was that she was lucky. There was nothing about luck involved, but there was pain and tiredness and long hours of working. There was sacrifice and unhappiness and being left out of normal people things. She was not lucky, and neither was she just beautiful.
She got herself to this place, and it was literally by her blood, sweat, and tears.
CZYTASZ
365 Days (Part 2) | ✓
Krótkie OpowiadaniaEvery day of the year, I'll be writing a short story, a poem, or even a reflection over my own life. It's a wild and crazy journey. I like to experiment with different styles and different ideas. Ever since starting to do this at the first of the ye...
