Well fed.

I've been cheating, but I don't care and I'm not concerned. I'm replacing the mundane with things that are necessary to be said. It's a little bit exhilarating too, not knowing who saw the post that in retrospect I never should have written, and knowing that they are the only ones who will ever see it - that it's something they'll have to recall merely from memory because there's no looking back on it now.

As if I'm important enough for people to look back on.

It was called, "Michael, I'm definitely the broken one." And to the that I hold. It works for my life and the duet.

The week from Hell is over, but it ended horribly, as can probably be expected. I ran late for ballet this morning, waking up hardly being able to move. It was all I could do to pull my legs over my bed, and I noted that I'd been so tired the night before that I didn't move in my sleep. At all. I woke up in the same position exactly, with nothing out of the place that I laid down with it in. Fantastic.

So, in that state, I hurriedly hobbled in the cold to the studio, without makeup, having literally just gotten out of the shower. And she attacked me. I got myself in the room this week without trembling or tears, and immediately, she came after me. But the worst, and what I feared, not only did she yank me into a position my back is not capable of, but she leaned in -

Well at least you're well fed, Cassandra.


Immediate tears. And there was nothing I could do. It took all of the discipline and courage I have to keep me in that room. Stay, I did. Imagine myself punching her in the face, I did. Say a word, no sir. And it didn't stop there. Everything I did was wrong.

Cassandra, where is your extension? You need to stretch, before it's too late. Look at Kun-Yang. His back is perfect. Head center, Cassandra. Don't let go of the barre. 


On and on and on. After she'd already humiliated me and called me fat, for what is more than likely not the last time.

I was so distraught. On the verge of tears and genuinely angry - with myself, for letting her do this to me, for not being skinny, for not being flexible, for the tears blurring my vision; with Kun-Yang for letting her back into a place where I've found safety; with Jess for smiling; with Jen for being perfect; with Eiren for trying to cheer me up; with the new kid for his way of looking at the situation; and with the universe for putting me in this life. I got so mad that I decided to show off. I knew I could jump. Potentially broken feet, but fatty can still jump. So I pulled out everything I had. Jess came over and joked with me, then hugged me -

Let your heart go next time.


And back to the tears. How am I supposed to keep going like this? I debated storming out of rehearsal, of accusing them of doing this to me on purpose. And I realized I couldn't do that. I love them too much. And I chose this life. I knew this was coming.

So, my choice is to figure it out. I either grow a backbone and take the hits or I lose the weight. The question is, will I ever be skinny enough? Or am I going to have to turn into a skeleton?

A car moment to rehearsal, Jess tries to help me. A huge talking to, and it was so perfect, if I were ready to hear it. Truth is, I don't buy it. You're just too nice. You love me too much. I want the truth. Maybe you're giving it to me, but I am so bent right now that I don't think I can handle it.

I'd turned cold again and was listening, processing and debating her words. And then she pulled out the ones I didn't know that I needed.

They aren't disappointed in you.


And it was back to tears. Okay. I think they are. I think I'm failing. That's part of the problem.

And somehow it came back to the stupidity of the week. I started telling her how bad it was, and the last straw of it. She asked me to clarify - "I can't understand why no one seems to want to spend a little bit of time with me without ripping me apart."

Oh.


That's all she had to say to what I didn't even know was buried in me. I just kept saying that I should've known it. I did know it. It was stupid. I'm stupid. It was never going to be another way. What was wrong with me? Stupid.

You aren't stupid. You have to stop beating yourself up.


Yeah. I'll work on that. I figure, if I do it, and I convince myself I'm right, then it won't hurt so bad when everyone else does it.

Not really sure that it's working.

Then off to get yogurt with a not-so-new but kinda-sorta new friend. I texted her when ballet was so bad this morning. I just needed someone to talk to, someone to listen and hear me, someone who isn't a dancer and doesn't know me inside and out, someone who's gone through similar and different things. So, over frozen yogurt, we talked about me being not-so-fat (ironic). She had wonderful advice. I feel better...and not. Maybe no amount of talking is going to do it.

And it was back to the stupidest situation I've gotten myself into as of late. She gave me validity. And there were no "I told you so," eyes. Just a lot of "I'm sorry," looks. She let me talk about it. Someone who had seen it, who had been there, who knew things about it that I didn't.

The important part - I didn't imagine it.

And I didn't imagine whatever happened. But I can't change it. Not if I'm not included.

I'm exhausted and hoping that I'll survive these next five weeks. Strategy - give up every unnecessary stress and take everything else by storm. I've had it. I'm pissed. Megan always said I dance better angry. So let's put that to the test, because I'm there. Let's see if I still have it in me and can live better too.

Be my friend. Stand by me. Or get the hell out of the way.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71y0lQIxstM