Accolade

préface

I was born to dance.

There are some of us who are born with a passion and there are others who discover their passion throughout life. We are all connected because every soul is part of the universe as we have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, and carbon in our soul; therefore, we are ninety-three percent stardust. It is something that most people don't realize, but a few of us know we were born to be seen. 

I knew what my passion was the day I stood on my tiptoes, and twirled around the kitchen while my mother cooked dinner. It had brought a rush of feelings that I couldn't describe and I instantly became hooked. I twirled, again and again, giggling while my mother watched. She must have known then, too, that I was destined to be a star. 

We, humans, are resilient creatures. It doesn't matter how much pain we are in, no matter how much we go through, we still manage to survive. We manage a smile when we have lost our hope, we continue to work when we have abandoned our souls, and we simply move when all movement has stopped. 

That is passion. 

It drives us each and every day to do something. 

Since the day I turned five years old, I had begged my mother to let me begin ballet lessons. I had a habit of walking around the house on my tiptoes, and I knew I wanted to learn how to dance like the pretty ballerinas I saw on television after school. They seemed to be perfect and graceful and everything I wanted to be. I often imitated them in the living room, and my father would scold me to sit down. 

It was just my luck that there was a small, local studio just three blocks from our house. I finally managed to convince my mother that if I hurried from school, I could make it to lessons every night, and still have time to do my homework. She had agreed to let me try it for two weeks.

Every night since then, I have danced until my toes bled. 

It didn't matter how many blisters I had. It didn't matter how much my bones ached, or my muscles atrophied, because when I was dancing; that's when I felt free.

I had an amazing instructor who was a retired ballerina and she had taught me how to make my movements graceful. She taught me the basic steps of ballet, and how to let my emotions flow through me to my very fingertips. I found the dance that resided in my heart and followed its beat. 

I may have been grounded to the world by gravity, but I was born with the gift to fly. From the moment I learned the proper body mechanics to leap and perform difficult techniques, I was sure wings had sprouted from my back. 

My instructor saw my potential and she helped me nurture it until I could self-sustain. We practiced and practiced until I could do it with my eyes closed. 

I started competing at age seven, and I never knew a place other than first. I became the spotlight in any place I danced, and I was told that I could captivate a stadium of thousands of people. It was as if I knew the path of my life from then on, and I pursued it with everything I could give. 

I kept dancing until I started to catch the eyes of important people around me. I received another instructor who furthered my training in ballet. I pushed all of my emotion through my body, just as my blood raced through my veins, and I often closed my eyes to let myself blindly move through the steps I had memorized. 

With it, came praise and recognition. 

By fourteen, I was offered once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. I was invited to studios for tours so that I could continue my pursuit of becoming a professional ballerina. I met with prestigious instructors and I shook their hands like an adult, and then let my mother turn them away. 

It wasn't her fault, she wanted me to focus on school. She wanted me to experience being a kid before I went on to bigger things, and she didn't want me to get burnt out before the age of twenty-five. She wanted everything good and right for me, but I already had my eyes set on the horizon.

My passion was my resilience. 

When I graduated high school, I moved to the heart of New York City. I wanted to dance on Broadway, as I saw all the ballerinas do with the most skill I had ever seen. I wanted to achieve everything that I ever dreamt of, and I didn't waste a moment looking back. 

Every day, I practiced for hours. I perfected my steps, softened my emotions, and allowed the criticism of my instructor to better me. I took everything to heart. I just loved to dance and I was beyond blessed to be able to pursue it as a career.

I auditioned for every ballet gig I could during the first three months I was in NYC until I didn't have to audition anymore.

Soon enough, my name gained publicity. People recognized me, they adored me. There were paparazzi that would wait for me everywhere I went, and they would interview me after every performance. I kept climbing from the bottom to the top until I finally had it all. 

I became a professional ballerina by the age of nineteen. 

Ballet was my heart and soul. 

Everywhere I turned, there were doors opening. I was receiving offers, many of which I could only pick and choose because I couldn't be in multiple places at once. There were people who adored me, instructors who helped me improve every day, and I was living up to all of my dreams in reality. I thought that nothing could stop me. 

Until the day I fell. 

Just as we are ninety-three percent stardust, not all stars are born to live. They are destined to fall, at any given time, as violent brushstrokes of white and grey tell the world of their descent from greatness. Often, at their brightest, shooting stars blink from existence, and we make a fleeting wish upon it. A second remembered, and another forgotten.

We spend our entire lives looking into the night sky for these glorious stars as if they serve a monumental purpose in our lives, and they will somehow point us home when we've been lost. We scream to the stars, we cry beneath them, we admire them, but as humans, we just never realize that falling--as stars do--is part of life. 

Although there's one thing that no dancer ever considers, especially so early in their rise to fame, and that's the day that they have to stop dancing. It seems absurd. I had just reached the sweet peak of my career, and I had many years left to enjoy all my hard work. That's what I had thought, and I had never expected the unexpected. 

Because my name is Aida Valievo.

And this is the story of how I lost it all. 

☼  ☼  ☼

Just a little background to my beloved character. 

God, this book is going to hurt. I hope you are ready because I've already been crying. I just... this is going to be an emotional rollercoaster. And for those wondering, we don't meet her older brothers until chapter four. Hang tight.