Don’t Give Up on Me

I’ve always been envious of dancers. I don’t consider myself a very jealous person, I was groomed not to lose myself to envy. But I will always be jealous of dancers because they can practice until they drop. No matter how much I write, it feels like I will never get better from where I am now. Like I’ll never improve. If only I could move across the room until I nail all the moves. If only I could practice into the early hours of the morning and be on the verge of collapsing. If only there was a way to feel the pinnacle of exhaustion, to feel alive in that sense. Tired but alive. All I feel now is plain tired as I stare at the blinking cursor on my screen. I went from wanting to die on the stage to dying at the mercy of the words that I can’t write. It’s not that I regret it. Non, je ne regrette rien. Don’t give up on me.