I’m passionate about something, you’ll know. I’m stubborn. I support gay rights. I don’t back down.

I despise George W. Bush with all my heart. Anyone who doesn’t agree is a lower-lifeform.

I despise rap and all it stands for. It’s degrading to women as well as humanity.

I’m a dancer. Not because I want to, but because I don’t know what I’d
do with myself if I didn’t do it. I blame my mother. I don’t hate it.
But I don’t love it. It just happened to be something I did well. Not
well enough. But well. I LOVE being on stage. Maybe that’s the only
reason I put up with it. I HATE the
bitchy-snobby-Bush-loving-Bible-hugging-low-life-cliquey-
can’t-go-anywhere-alone-ballet-obsessors
I go to ballet with. I LOVE the guys I go to ballet with. I love the
gay ones. I love the straight ones even more. I love Caroline Kehoe. I
love Sarah Krauss. They are my only saviors at ballet. I never harbored
the dream for ballet so I never found the passion. I love Nutcracker. I
love everything about Nutcracker time. I love the first time I hear
Nutcracker music walking past Studio C in October. I love aspects of
ballet. I love dancing. Really dancing. I love dancing at Hun. Maybe
because there I feel like I’m actually worth something. Maybe because
there I feel free. Maybe because there I can have people actually watch
me. Maybe because at PBS I’m just audition number 53. I love
pointe shoes. I love wanting to have the dream. And nearly finding it
somedays. I love when I actually feel alive when I’m dancing. And I
hate nearly hating it. I love Graham Lustig. I love Douglas Martin. I
love idolizing Mary and Peggy. I wish I could be Mary and Peggy. I love
the “good old days” of ballet. Back before PDT. I love the inner-peace
I find when dancing. I know my mom wants me to be a dancer. I know my
mom opened a dancewear store because she wants me to be a dancer. But
mostly, I know I could never give my life up to stand in the back of a
corps for the rest of my life. I don’t have the heart. And I don’t have
the drive. But I know I could never give dancing up. Most of all, I
know I’m not good enough. Not good enough to fulfill the dream. I want
to dance in front of a packed house at the Met. But I know I’m not good
enough. I know I will never be good enough. Maybe that’s why I don’t
have the dream. I don’t want to get hurt. I love being so utterly
confused by the prospect of dance. Ballet takes up most of my life.
When I let it. So I don’t let it. Meaning, I never go to class. I do.
But not as much as I should.

I have three brothers. I have three amazing brothers. Brothers that
probably shaped me the most into who I am. Richard is more of the
father I never had. More of an idol. Dan is more of a cartoon sibling.
More of the rebel without a cause. Dan and I never got along the way
the others did. But we love each other in a different way. Bryan is
more of the way a brother should be. Bryan is more of a best friend.
And a mentor. My brothers taught me everything I know. And more. I was
lucky to be able to watch them grow. And make mistakes.

I’m actually shy around people I don’t know. Once I know you though, I tend to explode.

I haven’t been very successful when it comes to relationships. But I’ve
been very successful when it comes to loving someone. It’s just the
love in return from them that I have to work on.

I’d rather have a small amount of best friends then an “impressive” number of acquantances. And trust me. That’s all they are.

I hate macho guys. I hate jocks. I hate football. Well. I hate the aura it presents.

I never used to curse. That ended.

Yes. I’ve been called mentally unstable by a few parents. So what.

I love writing. Somedays I think I could survive with only a pencil and paper. Not that I’ve very good at writing.

I love being alone the most, but succumb to loneliness far too often.

I used to wake up with a smile everyday, now somedays I wake up hating
the world. Maybe I’m just not a morning person. Actually, I’ve never
hated the world. I can be dramatic. I think maybe I’ve hated my
position in life…But I’ve never hated life either. I can be very
dramatic. I’m a tad
dramatic when I write, meaning: I’m not actually suicidal. In the
slightest. I am not a morning person. At all. I’m late…everywhere I
go. Except for play practice. I’m always early to play practice.

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