9. Ballerina
- Stefanie Capone
- 4 days ago
- 2 min read
I always dreamed of being a ballerina.
Sophisticated. Graceful. Those ballet shoes drove me absolutely crazy.
But there were no extracurricular activities growing up. We played outside after school until someone called us in for dinner. That was life. Stay outside. Don’t disturb. We’ll call you when we need you.
I loved school because it kept me busy. Away from the ordinary. Away from the quiet.
Summers I dreaded. Eight weeks outside not to disturb. I dreaded the last day of school every single year for exactly that reason.
I had a great tan though.
Summer boredom lasted until I started working summers.
LIBERTAD.
It felt like a revolution. I was no longer bored. I could keep busy after school, on weekends, and I was getting paid. I could buy things my parents couldn’t afford. Well — not everything. But enough to feel free.
As a little girl I would daydream about being a ballerina. Performing on stage. Being applauded.
I replaced that with performing at work.
And being applauded there instead.
Yuk.
If only I had danced. At least I would have gotten my dopamine fix doing something my heart actually wanted.
I never dreamed of working in a multi-million dollar corporation. But it applauded me.
So I got my fix there.
Funny how the dreams we don’t follow get replaced with regrets.
But thank god I had an identity crisis.
Because buried underneath all that performance was another dream I had quietly carried my whole life — writing. Stories I would spiral into in my head to break the boredom.
Scenarios I would play like movies behind my eyes.
My head has always been so busy. Writing is how it finally rests.
After I finish an essay I get my fix and I feel calm. I know. I sound like a junkie.
But here is what I am trying to say.
There is a little voice buried deep inside all of us. The ballerina. The writer. The thing we were before the world told us to go outside and not disturb.
Maybe just maybe — if you listen to it — you can still become the person you dreamed of being.
It’s not too late.
I’m proof.




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