A hill was once a mountain. Fourth graders were once giants. High school classes were once a bunch of mumbled up confusion with letters in the wrong subject and doctoresque words flowing from my siblings’ mouths. 

I used to feel pain every other day. This toe would hurt. That hip was being shredded. I thought I was never going to be fixed. I thought I would constantly be living in pain. 

But I’ve gained strength. The extensions come easier. The chronic pains come less often. 

My battle isn’t on the outside anymore—I’ve conquered that mountain. My old battles are now usually overtaken by a day or two taking it easy. Then the challenger doesn’t resurface for a while. 

My real, current battles are the ones inside my brain, like yelling at me for doing something wrong, shaming me for the poor turnout, attacking me for the bad day, when really, the bad day is caused by the relentless words flowing into my brain—caused only by itself.

I am being torn apart by myself. 

I see one misplaced thing, and I break. I’ll never get into a dance program or company with that.

I see one low grade, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll see any acceptance letters in March or April. 

My mind is waging war against me, and, so far, it’s winning.

But someday, my battle will be a hill I won’t think twice about climbing.

I will somehow get out of my head and realize there’s more to me than just grades and ballet. I will somehow convince myself that I can accomplish my goals, no matter what I think I look like and where I think I should be. The first step is acknowledgement, so I’m already halfway up the mountain. 

I will someday reach the summit, watch the sunset, and marvel at the beauty of the world. 

These battles I have today will then be speed bumps that slow me down for a second. But for now, they are mountains I have yet to climb. For now, I will try to take things one step at a time so I can reach the top with all the strength I have left. For now, I will focus on this mountain before I even think about the next.

High school classes were once a bunch of mumbled up confusion with letters in the wrong subject and doctoresque words flowing from my siblings’ mouths. Fourth graders were once giants. A hill was once a mountain. 

This mountain will soon be a hill I can easily conquer—it might just take some time and focus, but I will reach the summit.