First it was the jazz sneakers. Or the fact that I no longer do cross-training. Off sorts, because I've been slacking and I know it. It was just basics that I had to practice, but I couldn't remember . I spent 30 minutes on that. How weird. I had to go home after that because I felt like vomiting. A talk with a team mate made me realise how messed up I was. Giving up everything just so that I could go to the pre-professional programme. Did I seriously not care about the money? I did not care about my behaviour. This time I can't attribute this to my illness, can I? 

I feel like I'm acting in front of my dance instructor. I feel like that is not myself. But it's okay, because in the studio, I am a better version of myself, isn't that so? Being a senior, all sorts of opportunities, occasional praises on my skills. She told me, don't be so anxious, at least finish your secondary education. 

Which made me realize, I'm going to throw myself into dance, be in the dance studio to perfect my technique, starting from the basics to actual choreography. And I didn't give a damn, because that was what I have always wanted, to perfect my skills. If I wanted to dance, I could dance anywhere, anytime. But a dancer, every professional dancer goes into the career because they want to perfect their skills, their dance? Isn't that so? They take pride in perfecting their moves. 

She reminded me, dancers go to extreme lengths to perfect their moves. The training is almost barbaric, but I didn't give a damn. I'm acting, slowly becoming like my dance instructor, but it's okay, because he's a charismatic man, and he is doing what he loves. Everyone wants to do what they love. 

She asks me, if your grades were so fantastic, why be a dancer? Isn't it obvious that I like it? I answered, my dreams. It feels so surreal, why did I choose this? If she wanted to be a professional, then why did she ask me this question?