Diary of a Danceaholic

My name is Skyler Thomas. I am sixteen years old and I’m a dancer. That word defines me. Dancer. It is all I’ve ever known. My mom put me in dance classes when I was two years old. I started winning competitions when I was six. That was when she decided that we needed to put more focus on dance. When I’m not competing, I’m training for the next competition. While other little girls were playing in sandboxes and joining soccer teams, I was perfecting my triple leg hold turn. I’ve been homeschooled for almost ten years. That was my mom’s idea, too. I can’t go to a regular school because we spend too much time on the road, touring the country, pursuing my dream. I do school online and my classmates are spread out all over the world. My laptop and I are the best of friends. When we are not traveling, we live in an apartment in the middle of nowhere, California. I don’t think our town is even on a map, but it has a great dance studio - probably because there’s nothing else to do there. My dad, Terry, is an exotic car dealer and he spends most of his time traveling all over the world to find the perfect cars for his clients. We don’t see each other very much, but it’s better this way, though. My mom stays home with me. I’m her whole world, unfortunately. If my mom and dad spend too much time together, the same old arguments always come up. “We are spending too much money on dance,” he would say. “She deserves a normal childhood, Lindsey,” he also likes to say. My mom always gives the same tired speech back at him: “We are preparing her for her future.” And “She’s doing what she loves.” Or “We can’t hold her back when she’s doing so well.” I try to stay out of it as much as I can. If they ever asked me, I would just tell them both that I dance because it’s what I know how to do. I dance because I’m good at it, so why the heck not. It’s not like I have any friends anyway, so what else would I be doing with my time?