November 5, 2014
The Front Row
Theme: People mature as a result of choice, not age.
As I sit here in the back row, I stare at you. Sitting there. In the front row. Acting so "fantabulous." It disgusts me how you think you're so much better. What makes you think that anyway? We are just as good as you. Your two years older, big deal. That didn't seem to matter two years ago when you were best buds with Melanie. What makes us so different? What is wrong with us? One day, I will show you that we are not any different. One day, I'll prove we are equal. One day, I will be in the front and you'll be staring at me.
When I first met you, I didn't think you were mean or rude. I thought you were just another dancer, just like the rest of us.
I thought you were nice and sweet and just, normal. I never thought you would be rude or stuck up like you were so much better than us. I don't see what you get out of being like this. Next year you will be gone and we will have to fill your shoes, just like you had to fill the shoes of the people before you.
I'm not saying we have to be friends, but it would be nice if you at least respected us. You can think you're better than us, but everyone knows deep down you are the immature ones. We are the ones who actually want this to end while you still just think of it as a way to get ahead of us.
Now you're over there in your little corner of the dressing room whispering and laughing about...