A Little Diary Entry

I don't know what to say that will make it better and I don't know if you'll ever understand exactly what I mean. It's hard, I know that, because I don't even know what I mean most of the time. Which is just stupid, because I should be able to understand my own thoughts even if I don't understand so much else the rest of the time. But no.

At times I wonder if dreams are worth hanging on to, and it's at times like that when I start questioning the whole of life. If it's not worth clinging to my dreams of dancing at the Worlds, publishing a book and becoming a real musician, then is there any point in carrying on working towards those things? And if i don't continue working towards them, what do I do? Because they are my life.

I want to dance--so much. I want to be a dancer. I would like, in all honesty, to continue with my ballet classes that I quit four years ago, although not necessarily with the same teacher. But Irish dancing is my passion and it always will be, or so I hope. I want to be able to dance like the professionals I have seen in videos, like my teachers when they show us new steps, like the older girls at classes. I wish I could.

And I want to write. Writing is the only thing that keeps me sane, yet much of the time I'm convinced it's one of the things that's made me so weird, so that people say I'm crazy. When I'm not. Far from it.

As for music ... although I moan and groan about practicing my instruments, the idea of giving them up fills me with dread. It just feels wrong. They have been a part of my life for so long and I couldn't let them go.

But if my dreams are never going to be realised, what is the point in working so hard? Sure, so I may enjoy it, but wouldn't it be better to work hard at my schoolwork, get straight A's and end up going to some posh university so I could get a good job? Or how about getting a job now, or saving all my money instead of spending it on dance shoes and classes, on books and sheet music?

I know why I do it. I can't bear the thought of a boring life, with no creativity. I just don't think I understand the point. It might come to me some day, but it hasn't done it yet.

The End

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