When I was a little girl I used to sit in the audience and watch, as all the dancers on stage lit up my tiny world. They were fabulous, sparkly and their technique was flawless. I wanted to be up there, and I wanted to be as amazing as them. The pounding of the music, and the atmosphere surrounding me was unbelievable. I was a little girl lost in a big world. I couldn’t wait until that was me, I wanted to be perfect, I wanted to be amazing. Now I am one of the oldest in my class, and I know the girls look up to me. I am trying to be the best role model I can be. I want little girls to be inspired like I was. For generations to come, girls who push themselves to become better, that’s the reason why I dance. I love seeing the progress in people, and myself.
About six years ago I joined my very first hip hop class. I had never taken anything like it before. I was a ballerina, and I wasn’t very graceful. So I thought I’d try something new. I walked into a strange room with strange people. I was so nervous, what if I wasn’t good enough? What if people made fun of me? I still remember the look my teacher DeeDee gave me, it was a welcoming, sort of frightening look. She was a fiery red head, and she was full of energy. She was bouncing around, her curls flying everywhere. Those curls, I had some of my own, but I was determined to hide them, so I straightened them everyday. Her hair was flying and whipping and I couldn’t help but just stare. She was a goddess sent down from heaven to teach me how to be a better dancer. Today my dream job is a dance teacher. I strive to be like DeeDee, and I want to live a life full of dance and kids like she does.  
After  that first year of classes, I still wasn’t the best, but I had come so far. I remember wanting to quit, but DeeDee wouldn’t let me. She said I had potential. This meant so much to me, and it felt so good to have someone believe in me. I kept going at it, and finally I had accomplished moving to the older class. To dance with girls older than me was intimidating but it was also a great learning experience. I was pushed by DeeDee to get better, and I wasn’t allowed to quit. No matter how tough things got, I trusted DeeDee when she told me “Hit it hard” I had good days and I had many bad days, but those bad days were a learning experience and I am better today because of it.
The success and the progress I have made in my past years of dancing have all been thanks to DeeDee St. Peter. Without her I probably would not of had the strength to keep dancing and keep trying. To this day I still have DeeDee as a coach, and we are closer than ever. I can count on her for anything and everything. If I ever need someone to talk to, then I can always go to her. She is a great listener and a wonderful friend. I am not a senior yet, but I know, when the day comes that I dance in her class for my final year, I will cry. I will always keep the lessons I have learned, and the memories we have will be forever with me. DeeDee will forever be my hero, and I couldn’t ask for a better coach, teacher, and friend.

The rush
The grace
The feeling I get when I dance
My heart beating faster and faster and faster
Until everything falls silent

Its me
And the music
Just Me
And the rhythm

My heart is beating, my feet are moving
My head is spinning, I hit it
A switch turns on inside of me
I’m in it to win it now
I want that platinum, I want to make you proud of me
I want to be the dancer you want me to be
But ballet, thats not it.

You ruined this, you told me I wasn’t good enough
Point your toes,
lift your chin,
hold your leg higher
Do this, do that. Who cares?
Do I look like a prima ballerina to you?
I am not tall, I am not lanky
I am not skinny, I am not light
And I’m sorry but I have *****.

You can push me,
Stretch me, pull me in all different directions
To do what?
Make me more flexible, more graceful, more
you

You have beaten me down with your words,
so much that the one thing I loved most in the world
has slowly been slipping away from me
Dance doesn’t define who I am,
It is who I am.
Dance is me
I am dance

I’m big *****, I have strong muscles
I’m not graceful, when you tell me to hit it hard,
I hit it with intensity, with power
Don’t ask me to prance around in a pink tutu.
I won’t.
Put me in harem pants, and a baggy sweatshirt
Throw some beats down
And I’ll groove it
Pop it, slide it, lock it
Sharp sharp smooooooth
So many different moves,
Some don’t even have names
No Fouetté, or jeté
No relevé, or adagio
What do these even mean?
Do I look french to you?

I’d rather body roll
Chest pop
And just let my body do the talking
I don’t dance to impress you
I don’t dance to please your needs
I don’t dance for high scores
I dance to express the words I cannot speak

Three kids and a husband who loves her.
But her cancer is slowly breaking their family apart.
He tries to comfort his wife,
soothing her with every kiss they share.
But eventually cancer wins, it always does.
Three kids and a husband who loves her.
The cancer leaves them with nothing but a memory of the woman she once was.

What the hell? Was your object of this whole relationship? To rip out my heart? Shred it to microscopic pieces? Well it worked. I officially am terrified to ever love again. You lied to me, for 12 months, you lived a lie. All for what? The satisfaction of getting into my pants? Congrats. I gave you everything, my love, my body, my virginity. You tell me now "I never loved you, you never made me happy" Well that's just fan-freaking-tastic. I wish that I could of stopped loving you so much. You were the only person in my life that I have ever loved. And you used me. You caused me pain. Physical pain, I have scars on my not-so-perfect body. Mental pain, you got into my head, and made me think that I wasn't worthy enough for your highness. You were the king, you called the shots. And I stood by, and let you run my world. I never felt so alive. I was at the point of breaking, and now that's what I am. Broken. I used to be a strong, independent girl. A girl who never let a boy or anyone tell her what she could or could not do. You changed me, you abused me, not physically, but mentally. You didn't hurt my body, I did that on my own, by tearing away at my skin with a skinny blade from my razor. You hurt my heart, you hurt my self esteem, you hurt my confidence.
But I have overcome you. I am stronger than you. You are a coward, a bully, but you are silenced. I shut you up. Because I realized that I am a strong, independent woman. I have grown, so I thank you for that. You no longer run my world. I make my own decisions. And I don't need a boy like you in my life to make me happy. The scars and pain that you caused is now a reminder that I have overcome you and I will never go back to being a scared insecure little girl.

Who are you to tell me how to feel? Who are you to tell me how to live my life? What makes you the head game maker of my life? No one. Nothing. You can't control me anymore. I'm my own being, and I deserve to be treated like one. Not a pity party. Do I look like a pity party? Hell no! I'm so sick of being judged for the choices that society makes for me. This isn't my life. I'm not in my body, I'm looking in on my own life from a different perspective. I am screaming "LET ME IN" But no one hears me. Why can't I make a difference in my own life? I'll tell you why, I got ****** in. I got manipulated and molded into something that I never dreamed I would become. Wake up! The only person you can rely on in the world is yourself, but I don't know who I am anymore. I want to be the happy little girl I used to be, running around in fields(cliche I know) but I was that girl once. I was pretty, people looked at me, and complimented me. Not because they felt bad, but because they saw a pretty little girl with no secrets. But my secrets have overcome my body, I'm drowning in my lies. And my time is up.

We talked today
For the first time in weeks
And I thought
Maybe someday

Soon

We could be friends again


And then I stopped being a fool
And realized
I could never again
Be just friends
With you

RED
Your bright red visor
turned backwards so the wind won’t devour it
Your bright red skis
zipping down the race course
Your bright red visor
facing forward to block the sun as you swing the club and strike the golf ball

My bright red lipstick
kisses my mouth,
as I prepare to perform
My bright red costume
sparkles in the stage lights
My bright red lipstick
ruined from the tears streaming down my face.

The thoughts running through my head
are like traffic
Bright, loud and slow moving
I can’t think
Can’t breathe
Can’t speak
What is happening?

When a person dies
Where do they go?
Heaven?
Hell?
The after life?
Space?
All these questions that will never be answered
Science can explain how someone dies
but not what happens after

Science told me that he had melanoma
Science told me that our time was limited
Science can’t tell me how he felt
Science can’t tell me what he was thinking when that last puff of air reached his lungs
Science can’t tell me how much he loved me
But the answer to that last question, is so clear

My bright red lipstick
kisses my mouth,
My midnight black dress
draped on my curves
My bright red lipstick
ruined from the tears streaming down my face

Your bright red visor
now worn by the man I call my daddy
Your bright red skis
still zipping down the course,
but with a different skier, your son,
Your bright red visor,
a reminder to those, that you are still with us.

Slice. Cut. Butcher.*
When a person hears those words they think:
Meat. Wound. Deli.*
When I hear those words I think:
Skin. Blood. Pain.

I'm too much of a coward, I can't **** myself.
But I can hurt myself.
And that has relieved my pain.
Now I am numb.
I can no longer feel anything.

I've given up everything.
My friends. My family. My life.
I have devoted myself to my pain.
Sooner or later my life will end.
I don't want anyone to know the real me.

I can't fight the tears that flood down my face,
like the blood flows from my tan skin onto the floor.
Now everything is a blur. I can feel myself getting weaker.
The last image I see is,
red.

Red
for roses, and hearts.
Red
for blood, and fear.
**Red