A Rediscovered Passion
I was in a cheerful mood, as school had gone decently well that day, but more so because it was finally Thursday. On Thursdays, I got an hour to actually do something I was passionate about, and something I had nothing to complain about, dance. Every single week, I would grab my dance bag with my old and worn out jazz shoes, and rush to fill up my water bottle before I ran over to the car. Dance made me feel like I was actually good at something. It lifted my self esteem like a rocket ship that was never coming back down. The dance studio was my happy place. When I got to the dance studio after school, the butterflies in my stomach fluttered with excitement, but also with a little bit of nervousness, as we were getting so close to recital day, and we had to nail this piece. As I was walking over to sit down and put my jazz shoes on, I noticed something felt a little of...