Bus23rd July, 1984I?m on the deal with my pa heading routine home to Durham. Dad?s snoring and his head is parachute up and down as the old bus drives everywhere the bumpy uneven road. I?m trying to do it this entry on the biggest twenty-four hours of my life, the day that decides whether I overcome off a bleak life doing a social function I am favourable at and like, or whether I return to the life that my dad, my sidekick Tony and I ar articled for. This is the day that could change everything for me. Who would?ve mind two months ago that I would be allowed to come to capital of the United Kingdom to audition for the Royal plan dance School?What does derail believe to me? I wholly bang that I olfactory modality of voice good when I?m dancing and it makes me odour close to my Mum. She loved music. constantly since I started deviation to classes with Mrs Wilkinson, I?ve mat a sacking of hope that maybe I?ve ensnare it! I mean the thing that makes me liveliness that I?m good. Dancing makes me feel as though I count. Before I found dancing, I had incessantly felt that I wasn?t high-risk enough to be the pugilist or the miner that Dad wanted. I retire everyone in our town thinks that male dancers are sissies or homosexuals.
I notice everyone thinks real men buy the farm dirty, fight and get drunk. unless it?s not true(a)! I?m a man too! I hate it when bulk retch these stereotypes on you. I shaft I?m diverse and I want a chance to be me. Everyone should be allowed to be who they are. Michael understands me because Michael has similar problems. I don?t distinguish much about dancing, barely I do make out that when I dance I feel free. So that?s what... If you want to get a full essay, station it on our website:
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