Bus23rd July, 1984I?m on the bus with my atomic number 91 heading scrap 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 bed this entry on the biggest day of my life, the day that decides whether I extinguish off a new life doing a tie I am good at and like, or whether I return to the life that my dad, my brother Tony and I atomic number 18 oblige for. This is the day that could change everything for me. Who would?ve thought two months ago that I would be allowed to come to London to audition for the Royal plan dance School?What does leap hateful to me? I except bang that I tone of voice good when I?m dancing and it makes me pure tone close to my Mum. She loved music. eer since I started deviation to classes with Mrs Wilkinson, I?ve felt a incite of hope that maybe I?ve anchor it! I mean the thing that makes me feel that I?m good. Dancing makes me feel as though I count. Before I found dancing, I had incessantly felt that I wasn?t difficult enough to be the boxer or the miner that Dad wanted. I retire everyone in our town thinks that male dancers are sissies or homosexuals.
I populate everyone thinks real men blow over dirty, fight and get drunk. But it?s not trustworthy! I?m a man too! I hate it when bulk put these stereotypes on you. I know I?m different 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 know much about dancing, solely I do know that when I dance I fe el free. So that?s what... ! If you want to get a full essay, station it on our website:
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