October 5th, 2023
Dearest,
I watched from the top of the staircase tonight as you gripped the railing on the way down, knuckles white and still bony from the years you let me hold them.
A puppet who has lost its strings can no longer hold itself up. Though it took twice as long as the other gym-goers, you made it down the stairs on your own, despite the clearly excruciating pain in your legs. Once you reached the bottom, you walked on, to another machine, like nothing ever happened.
One day, you’ll tire of counting your muscles, and go back to counting your ribs in the mirror instead.
I know that you put yourself through this agony just to avoid me, but I still don’t understand why. You know that I’m still here, ready to catch you if you fall, ready to take your fragile hand and guide you out the doors. Day by day, you ignore me, refuse to look me in the eyes, refuse to speak to me. You want nothing to do with me, and yet, when everybody else left you, I was the only one that stayed.
Remember, when everybody you care about inevitably leaves again, once you scare them off with the weight of your baggage and the scale of your love, I’ll still be here for you, waiting. One day, you’ll tire of counting your muscles, and go back to counting your ribs in the mirror instead.
Forever and always,
Your Only True Love
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July 1st, 2018
My Newest Project,
We met for the first time today. You may be only 14, but I work with dancers young and old. As you knotted your chiffon skirt as tightly as possible around your waist and anxiously glanced at the other girls on the barre, I knew that you would indeed be my next disciple. American Ballet Theatre does the hard work of bringing all of the talent into one place, so all that is left for me to do is prowl around the classes and choose.
I cannot tell how your eyes perceive me. You notice me, standing in the doorway to the studio, and stare. Perhaps, I am a demonic thing to you, hunched over and decrepit, visiting from the depths of hell. Or perhaps, I am simply a man, a master of the arts, here to serve you as a mentor.
Let me alter your craftsmanship, tie new strings under your arms, rip out your stitches.
You are wary, and I do not blame you. No doubt that in your time here, you’ve heard about me, been warned about my teachings. Still, I can see you're curious about the wisdom that I could impart to you, about the ways I could make you into a star. I’m sure you’re tired of screaming at the universe for not creating you to the standard of the sport you love. Let me alter your craftsmanship, tie new strings under your arms, rip out your stitches. Let me hold you up.
All of the best dancers have made deals with others of my kind. Some of the girls you’re comparing your hip and waist circumference to, have made bargains with us, too. Perhaps, it is time for you to make yours.
Best,
A Potential Mentor
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August 18th, 2018
My Dearest Student,
You shone brilliantly tonight.
Perhaps it was the black stirrup tights I laid out for you to wear instead of those unflattering pink ones, but your lines looked much longer than usual. Your turns are looking much better too; the weight you’ve lost in your breasts seems to balance you out much better.
Before, I was only an idea, a rotting shadow of what could be.
All credit is due to you. Where have I laid out the new guidelines of your life, worked behind the scenes as your puppet master, you have worked tirelessly to implement them. I have watched you ignore the grumbling protest from deep within your body, jitter with caffeine, and commit to exercising multiple times a day. And you have done it all with a smile, hiding our plans from the rest of the world so that they do not distract you. Keep it that way. It is a dancer’s job to be effortless, after all; nobody needs to know that you have help.
Watching you warm up to me brings me such joy. Before, I was only an idea, a rotting shadow of what could be. Your sacrifices flesh me out, make me whole and entirely real, and in return, I aim to siphon the life you once lived and transform it into something more purposeful. Like many dancers before you, you are wise beyond your years to trust in my teachings. In the coming months, I plan to prove to you even further that the best is all I want for you, my sweet protégé.
Best,
Your Biggest Supporter
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March 20th, 2019
Doll,
I am so sorry about today. I never meant to make you cry. You know I care about you,
Don’t you?
I stood in the doorway as you learned your variation, sunken eyes glowing with the knowledge that you had finally done it, finally clawed your way to the top. I was so proud. Yet, as you went to do the dance en pointe, to float across the room like the fairy you were tasked to embody, your now-fragile legs collapsed under you. You think I have pushed you too far, you plead for me to rest you like a drooping marionette. But we are only getting started. The human body simply requires time to adjust to everything, something you have yet to understand.
I cannot survive without you, and you cannot survive without me.
I loomed overhead as you laid on the ground. You looked up, and the tears in your eyes made my blood chill. “You did this to me,” they seemed to say, with a terror like that of an abused animal.
No longer were there two figures in the mirror when you looked. Only one skeletal, shadowy figure appeared there; skin, bones, and still on the floor. Your solemn gaze told me you knew what I had figured out long ago. I hope with time you’ll grow to realize that it’s better this way, for both of us.
You are me.
I cannot survive without you, and you cannot survive without me.
Love,
A Caring Mentor
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January 27th, 2020
Dearest,
After some time of not speaking, you finally succumbed to me once again, ran back to me crying and begged me to stop you from becoming the girl you were before we met. I ghosted my fingers over your cheekbones, lightly tugging upwards where the color had returned to them. I ran them down your sides, and could no longer feel defined ribs or hip bones. I caressed them up your back, where the vertebrae of your spine jutted less sharply against your skin, and across your clavicle, enveloped by more muscle than before. I whispered, against the shell of your ear, that I was disappointed. Your eyes snapped open, before turning around and screaming at me to get out. To leave you alone.
We cannot help but yearn for familiar comforts. I cannot help but follow you, want to be near you, even when you ignore me. Truthfully, it makes me want you that much more. Surely, you can feel my eyes on the back of your head, overseeing all that you do, even when you don’t acknowledge my presence. Surely, you notice my shadow cast over you, far larger than your tiny body. Whenever it may be that you decide you need my help once more, I will be there, I promise.
You may have been able to purge yourself of all of the fat on your body, but you will never be able to fully purge yourself of me.
I miss taking care of you. There is so much more to be done. Yet, whenever I tap your shoulder, ready to offer my head, you lash back, teeth bared against hollow cheeks. You blame me for your hair loss. You blame me for being unable to stay awake in school. You blame me for dreading ballet.
But where is your gratitude? You never thank me for the brilliant technique I have granted you, the sharp movements, the ballerina body, the solos. You try your hardest to separate our beings, to claw at my entrails, to gut me until what remains is the tangible evidence of my presence in your life. Instead of giving thanks, you swing a blade at the strings that I’ve tied to your back.
I know that even if we are not one and the same, you will turn around and face me once again. You may have been able to purge yourself of all of the fat on your body, but you will never be able to fully purge yourself of me.
Love,
Your Forever Admirer
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January 2nd, 2022
Dearest,
Today, you purchased a gym membership. I watched as you pushed open the door with shaking hands, making your way to the weights instead of the treadmills. You’ll come to regret that, you know it’s something that I never would have allowed.
You have made your best effort to ignore me for a year now, but this is your first true act of rebellion, and perhaps the worst decision you’ve made yet. I’m sure you’ll come to regret defying me in time—miss my dedicated love and tender care. One day, you’ll wake up and realize that you can’t make it as a dancer on your own. It’s both of us or nothing.
The body is temporary, but I swear, I will follow you to the grave.
But maybe, that’s what you want: an excuse to leave ballet, leave our commonality, once and for all. I’m sure you think that this new outlet will give me a reason to leave you alone, let you go on without me. Is that what you want?
Dearest, you are a fool if you think there will even be a minute for the rest of your life where I won’t be following behind you.
The body is temporary, but I swear, I will follow you to the grave.
- Eternally Your One and Only
