Imagine This.

The Walls

You

You've been in a long line filled with girls that are dancers,just like you. You've been waiting to show off your talent and you really want to be Michael Jacksons backup dancer. You breathe dancing,it's the only way you survive. You want this..you need this.

You're sick of just teaching others to dance. You want to be a professional. You want experience and you want to be able to say 'I'm a professional dancer' when someone asks you your profession. You're a dancer on the side of your Dairy Queen job. It doesn't pay much and you need to live somewhere stable.

You scoot your way up the line and you're finally at the stairs. There's about thirty girls a head of you and you're relieved that they have been going by quickly. You've been on a music strike for a week for this. You didn't want to wear out the moves or the music. You wanted it to be smooth and fresh. You didn't even come up with choreography,you just showed up and is willing to dance to anything they provide.

When music turns on,you explode and the melody and the beat move through you and you hardly notice. It's something you were born with, and it's something to be proud of;hopefully Michael will think the same..well if they ever mention you to him.

A red head runs down the stairs crying;shoving all of the girls to the side. Poor girl..I hope that doesn't happen to me. Girls whisper behind you and you try to calm yourself down. You can't stand still! You feel like this is all or never. If you screw this up,your dream is over. But if you dance like no one has ever heard of Beyonce then you could live your dream.

You walk up the stairs and get a better view of the men that are in charge of this. You turn around and look at all the girls behind you and you're truly happy that isn't you anymore. You're almost up.

"You can do this, don't think..dance"

I'll update more in a bit.. What do you think? The next page will be gold, I promise you. You guys still need to comment on the previous page so COMMENT AND VOTE!!