The Black Swan | Reposted

Prologue

Prologue 

You are born; I firmly believe you are set on a path. You are set for something, made for something. Now, it might not be easy to achieve this something, but if you never give up and somehow carry on, you will achieve what you are destined to. You have to do whatever it takes.

In my life, I grew up around a ballerina. I can still remember that scent all the old theaters, the stage floor was where I took my first steps. It was what I knew, since day one.

My mother is the most beautiful ballerina in the whole world, maybe I'm biased but it still is the truth. My mother has the softest, most chocolate brown hair you could imagine with piercing blue eyes. I looked just like her, but not as pretty. She has such arched cheek bones, a beautiful jaw line, her body tight and always so slender and strong. She'd dance when she put the dishes away, she'd twirl and spin always. I followed her all over, watching her dance and dance for years. It was natural that I followed in her slippers, followed into the theater. I never once had a choice in the matter anyhow. She wouldn't let me live any other lifestyle, other than this one. A life, a legacy, she helped build. She'd say, "Every woman makes a brick in this industry. Every woman has to be successful to leave their brick to help the future dancers build." It was all about the legacy.

She couldn't' dance any more, which did break my heart. But she had damage to her body that couldn't be fixed and she didn't want to risk hurting her body any more than it already was. I think she lived through me a bit, but I didn't mind. She had such an incredibly successful career, dancing till her mid thirties; I was about ten when she stopped. I grew up seeing her take so many stages, it was incredible.

After dancing on stages all over the country, after being in countless dance competitions, so many lessons, and so many hours at Joffrey or Julliard's summer camps, training at The Royal Academy of Dance, I was offered to keep my training up at the School of American Ballet. I had been in countless featured roles, which I knew did my mother proud, roles like in Dances Concertantes and Stars and Stripes. I was named an apprentice with New York City ballet and became a member of the corps de ballet. I was promoted to Soloist, and this past year I was officially promoted to Principle Dancer, which was an incredible honor at such a young age. Sometimes it scared me, thinking it was only because of my mother's legacy, being such a famed ballerina. I hoped I earned my title, it was always in the back of my mind. I could hear that nagging voice, that I often chose to silence. 

It was such a strange thing to be a part of something so beautiful. It was so amazing to see the final product of the ballet on film, and seeing how each bend, each move and position told a story without words. It blew me away. I could make my body be so... I don't know. It was beautiful, the whole scene was. Ballet was something I put on such a high pedestal; I struggled to relate to anyone else. I struggled to stray outside of the safety the Company walls provided me with. It was something so many people didn't understand, the amount of time and energy, the true commitment. It was a relationship, my only relationship. It had to be maintained, you had to think of it often, and it somehow made you feel so special. I don't think many understood that aspect.

My mom and I were best friends, especially after my father passed a few years ago. He was a very well known composer, which is how he met my mom. He was working on a piece for one of her ballets, and boom, fireworks. They fell for one another, six months later they were engaged. They were married for years happily when he passed from an unexpected heart attack. It was devastating to me, something I don't really take the time to think about in truth. It only made me throw myself into my dances more, and more. I needed an escape. I missed my dad more than I liked to understand. I wasn't the type to process things, I simply locked them away.

His death really made me so dependent on my mother. She's the only one who could really understand this lifestyle, she's the only one on such a personal level with me that I could get advice from and tell her anything. She... she's... my idol. Is that silly? I wasn't sure if it was normal for a twenty year old to be so obsessed with her mother, but I was.

I worked part time at my mother's ballet studio; she was an instructor, teaching the basics to some very lucky little girls. It didn't get any better than Mia Grace Graff, well Ricci.

There was a long line of ballerinas in my family, my mother, my mother's mother, my grandmother's mother, and so on. Her maiden name, stage name, was always Ricci, as was mine. We kept it a tradition; it was an honor to be a Ricci on a stage. It was also an honor to be a Ricci dancing in Swan Lake. I was named after Odette, the White Queen; it was so hard to carry that around. I hadn't ever made that piece yet. Every other woman in my family around this young, young age, had. It was a pressure I couldn't explain, it was a role I'd do absolutely anything for. It was a role that I had seen so many times, it would never escape my mind until I completed it.

I couldn't let my mother down. I couldn't let the legacy down. It was what I breathed, what I lived for, what I honored. It was so much more than dancing and tutus. It was a lifestyle.

Odette is so dedicated to the dance,  I admire her. Life of dancers is so hard.