Pirouette - Tumblr Posts
I know I like to dance because it has never been so difficult for me. Being difficult makes me a good ballerina.
I was a good ballerina.
Yes, I was good at what I did, nothing more than it was never noticed because I had to be good at everything I did, so just that I enjoyed it was overshadowed by pure perfection, perfection that only stayed in my house and outside, outside into a hole, from inside to outside there was never anything more than smiles agreeing to everything, nothing was ever expected from me but promises of a future like the best, after me there was never anything better. Nothing better than her.
Nothing was ever good. It is impossible to maintain perfection.
She at least told me that. She liked things to be disastrous in perfect harmony. One that only I was able to see. And I knew that only I was capable of seeing it because I never felt forced to do so. It was just there. And his presence made me feel more and more alive. I rose up higher than a grand jeté, I rose into the air with thousands of twists and counter-turns that made me vomit pink, blue, yellow, green and red butterflies, I became dizzy in the most tender and innocent way I have ever set foot in this world. Nothing was ever the same in this hole universe. She held me in a way that even she wasn't aware of how much it hurt me every time she let me fall. Not even an injury hurt that much. But they always told me that if there is no blood, the pain is not important. Furthermore, I didn't feel any pain when I jumped again. Everything turns pink when I see you again. Everything turns into summer.
Then I remember why I don't like the summer heat. A strawberry popsicle lasts until the rays hit it and fracture is inevitable. The fall and the sticky drips of summer with the tears it brings become inevitable and present in all the body that still remains on this earth.
Because That's it. A dancer is firm and does not take her feet off the ground, not forever. Always with head held high. Always firm. Always alone about something. And me, I was a good ballerina.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I don't know why I feel like crying if you're not with me. My birthday was never important, that rules out the fact that I want a party, am I asking too much when I want a hug of yours?
This sounds so human that it makes my chest clench. This is what she would have wanted. For the first time I'm going to jump out alone and say that I prefer to say that; I was just a good dancer.
Della.
Hopefully tomorrow you will still be in my mind and forever and ever I will remember you. This ballet dancer will love you.
Here’s my first Balan Wonderworld OC I’ve made! Say hello to Pirouette, the maestro of Song and Dance! Someone’s gotta be behind the music in folks’ stages after all. Shy and a bit more involved with things behind the scenes rather than dealing with Visitors face to face, Pirouette often keeps himself busy with vigorous dance practice within his small open air amphitheater. He’s almost always seen with his mask on and will go into a panic without it.
Meloetta - Color practice.
"I'm fucking elegant, you son of a bitch!"
Stone Exterior Chicago a sizable, minimalistic, stone exterior home shot.
Four
Four dolls to be lined up in an order only she understood, one after the other, with her brother’s toy trucks some distance away because girls play with pinks, not blues. Four glasses to be filled with water in the kitchen, one after the other, with her brother’s books kept on a high shelf because girls balance trays, not equations. Four dresses to be tried on for the party, one after the other,…
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