Bloodshot Eyes

Have you ever wanted something so badly it hurt?

I suppose in some way we all have, may it be a dream holiday, a new job or even something as simple as a new colour of nail polish.

Although, I am not lusting for the usual teenage desires, not a new handbag, a designer dress or a new boyfriend. I wish - things would be so much easier if that was all I wanted needed.

No, my dream is bigger, some might say better too, than all of that. But sadly, it's tantalizingly out of reach.

It's not an unusual or strange dream, I'm sure lots of little girl share the same one as I do. But the only problem is, I am not a little girl anymore. Actually I am quite far from it, I am not your typical little nine year old who practices doing cartwheels in their front garden. I am your not - so - typical nineteen year old who practices doing backwards handsprings in their front garden.

For as long as I can remember I have had a dream, and only one dream. That was to be a gymnast. I used to watch endless videos of stick thin girls with their hair pulled back into perfectly tightened buns flipping themselves around on beams, flying upside down on poles, swishing around on hoops. It fascinated me, to an extent where it was the only thing I could talk about.

Every day I used to pull my hair back into the same hairstyles they wore, walk on my tippy-toes like they did in competitions, wear the same costumes they did. I did everything I could to be even just a little bit like them.

I can remember on my sixth birthday getting my first proper leotard type costume. It was black with a purple and white flame trailing around one side. I insisted on wearing it everywhere, even when I had grown out of it I still tried to squeeze back in.

You can imagine the difficulty my parents had getting me out of it and into a uniform for school.

I think the happiest day of my life was probably on my seventh birthday when my parents enrolled me in the local gymnastics club. I had begged them for months and months to let me join, but they had declined saying it cost too much. I guess my constant pestering finally made them give in and cave though.

I was so unbelievably nervous the first day I went there. I was too scared to even let go of my mother’s hand for at least ten minutes. Looking at the other girls who were all obviously well into their teens even just doing the simplest of moves, at the time had me completely mesmerized.

The way they moved with such grace and elegance look my breath away. That was the moment that I decided it was what I wanted to do. What I needed to do.

I know that most girls grow out of their little fazes of wanting to be a ballerina or a singer at around the age of twelve, but for me the dream stuck.

It hasn't been replaced by a passion for parties, for glamour, or even for boy bands. Even though I do attend the odd party now and again, I do like to have nicely done make up sometimes and I'm totally and utterly in love with one certain American rock band,Avenged Sevenfold, the dream hasn't wavered one bit.

You know, that little community center where the lesson were held has been an inexplicably huge part of my life. It's where I met my best friend, where I figured out who I really am and what I'm actually meant to do with my life, but most importantly where I met the love of my life.

In that club hall, or whatever you want to call it, they do practically everything, gymnastics, football, tennis,music lessons, you name it.

When I was around fourteen, my parents were late picking me up from practice one day, so naturally enough I waited outside for them to come and get me.

I couldn't actually tell you why he was outside as well, but what I can tell you is, I am fucking glad he was. Who knows what life would be like now if he hadn't been?

Matthew Tuck. That was how he introduced himself to me, with the brightest smile I had ever seen plastered across his face. I can still remember how rough his fingers felt when they interlocked with mine as we shook hands. The way his long straightened brown hair fell over one eye when he laughed, the way his eyes made me melt inside. How he made me fall in love with him.

Now almost six years later, those eyes can still make me melt inside, his hair still falls over one eye when he laughs, and he still makes me fall more in love with him every day.

It was our dreams that brought us together. It will be our dreams that will tear us apart.