Perfection

Just something we had to right in English about our identities. Took me about 15 minutes so it's far from perfect and completely unedited. Feel free to critique.

The world blurred as I pushed myself onto pointe for a double pirouette; the painting of Elizabeth II that I was using as a focus came around, once and then another time. I wobbled and landed awkwardly.

I've always wished I could make perfect turns with perfect technique and yet, with so much practise, I could not guarantee perfection every time. Although it pushed me to work harder, I could not eliminate the nagging conscience telling me I'll never be the best.

The ballet class continued until our backs were damp with perspiration, our feet were sore with blisters and our bodies refusing to work any more. Although I longed to rest, I forced my muscles to move, pushing up onto my toes and holding my weight. I had promised myself I was going to get it right this time and I was going to make that happen no matter what it took.

The dusty fans whirled overhead, recycling the warm air around the room, the teacher's sharp voice echoed against the walls, the younger ballerinas danced playfully around the edges of the room. Calming my heart, I forced myself into a bubble, a silent world where nobody else existed. Focus, focus, focus!

I tried again, shifting my weight onto my toes. The bars on the side flew past, then the chairs where other students sat watching, then the double doors and finally the painting. Landing in fourth position without wobbling, perfect...almost.

Even though it wasn't the most beautifully balanced pirouette, it made me realise something important. Perfection can't always be achieved no matter how hard we try, but at least we can tell ourselves that we've tried our best. And even when we fall short of perfect, we should always keep in mind that close enough to perfection, sometimes has to be good enough.