The Girl

So this one time there was a girl. This girl was sarcastic and extreme, she had an affinity for politics and a snarky attitude, she challenged everything that came at her and loved nothing more than a great argument. The girl was aggressive and sometimes very intimidating, but she was also very sensitive, which had gotten her into more than a few rough spots. She was in High School, and most of the time she hated that (but in a very original, "I'm Too Smart For This" kind of way). The girl was a ballerina, and while she wasn't the very best dancer, never the most flexible, never with the highest extensions or the most extensive knowledge of ballet history, she danced with soul. She had the ability to command a presence and to light up a stage, and she strove to be the very best. When she moved in the real world she was too skinny and gangly, determinately clumsy, always sporting skinned knees and bruised shins, her voice was always a little too loud and her opinions a little too sharp, but when she entered the studio you could see a calm come over her. The second that her feet hit a marley floor and her hand came to rest on the barre you could see her change. She would straighten her spine, and her hips would tuck inward, she would make eye contact with herself in the mirror, her chin would tilt up just a fraction of an inch, and suddenly you knew, and she knew, that she was in exactly the right place. She had found her own little corner of the world, and it fit just right.

But one day the girl pushed it a little to far. She went up in the air a beautifully graceful creature, and she came down her gangly old self. A year of doctors visits later, and she would never dance again. Her little corner of the world had entirely disappeared, and she was lost. And she was angry.  And the world would never be the same.