why me??
6:01 p.m.

Dear Dance Teacher,

Let me just give you a run down, real fast.

You were teaching us a dance, that I was absent for most of and learned rather well and very fast. I didn't wanna be in the dance.

You informed the class that all this stuff we'd been doing was merely an audition. I was so happy. I suck anyway, I thought, so I won't get picked.

I get to school today, and you've picked me to be one of the 6 dancers.

The other 5 have all taken/are taking dancing classes. They are actual dancers.

I, on the way other hand, am not.

I've never taken a dance class in my life. Well, if you don't count those classes when I was a little girl. But every little girl takes dancing classes. Every mom wants their baby girl to be a ballernia..right?

I'm one of those people who open up that jewlery bow with the spinning ballernia and her music and think "I could never be her."

I do not do the tutu.

But, Jesus, why the hell do you want me in this dance?

I'm chubby. I barely know most of the moves. Why me?

You must believe in me.

Because I sure as hell don't believe in myself when I look into that wall of mirrors and do those steps and watch myself time and time again fuck up, step on my toe, trip, fall, and everything else I've done.

So, why me?

Yours,

The Computer Potatoe

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