Irina had a secret dream. It was one of those things you never told anyone, but kept it flaming up inside of you. She was too afraid to express what it was because she was surrounded by realists; people who believed it was best if you had both feet on the ground and thought logically about everything. Irina wasn’t really like that, but was not bold enough to disagree.
So she grew up following all the rules – going to college, getting a degree, doing an internship for experience, accepting minimum wage for a start, gaining more responsibility the more time she stayed in the company, tolerating wage cuts that blamed the financial crisis, and carrying on with what realists believe was life – working to gain a living and if you had any free time left, you could actually live too.
But that was not enough.
It somehow never was.
Inside of her that dream was pushed aside by all the obligations and responsibilities that came with adult life.
It may have faded but it had never disappeared.
It came back out of coincidence and a mixture of boldness and stubbornness. She could not accept that she would never be able to even touch her dream. So she tried her best to change circumstances. On the spur of an impulse she made all the necessary contacts and enrollments. It was never too late, everyone said, and she believed it to be true. Because all it really takes to achieve everything you want is passion. And perhaps a little determination too.
Irina was to become a dancer. And in less than in two years, she would have grabbed hold of her dream. And it would not be a secret anymore. Only she wouldn’t need to tell anyone. She would simply show them.