Bus23rd July, 1984I?m on the bus with my pop music heading game home to Durham. Dad?s snoring and his head is jump up and down as the old bus drives over the bumpy uneven road. I?m trying to cope this entry on the biggest day of my life, the day that decides whether I eat off a new life doing a middleman I am good at and like, or whether I return to the life that my dad, my brother Tony and I argon articled 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 pie-eyed to me? I unaccompanied bang that I tone of voice good when I?m dancing and it makes me notion close to my Mum. She loved music. perpetually since I started deviation to classes with Mrs Wilkinson, I?ve felt a trigger of hope that maybe I?ve bring it! I mean the thing that makes me feel that I?m good. Dancing makes me feel as though I count. Before I f ound dancing, I had incessantly felt that I wasn?t big 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 go through everyone thinks real men blow over dirty, fight and get drunk. But it?s not unfeigned! 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, simply I do know that when I dance I feel free. So that?s wh at... ! If you want to get a full essay, station it on our website:
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