Black Swan

After the second conference, I would be cast in the role of a young dancer with a prestigious New York City ballet company. I would be cast in the role of the mother, a former dancer now amateur artist, whose career ended at 28 when she became pregnant. I would be cast in the role of the exotic beauty who is more in touch with her sensuality. I would be cast in the role of the director, a cruel and demanding genius who would sleep with the ingenue. I would be cast in the role of someone selected to compete for the part alongside several other dancers. I would be cast in the role of someone who bites the director, and/or doesn't get along with the other dancers. I would be cast in the role of the aging principal dancer. My rigid technique would make me the ideal choice, but I would also lack the passion required by this role.

I would practice all the time. I would become increasingly paranoid. I would get drunk and yell, with dark makeup all around my eyes. I would barricade myself in my room. I would become increasingly critical. I would tell her how pretty she is, and carefully pull mittens over her hands before bed so that she does not hurt herself. I would sing her a lullaby. I would see my own image everywhere. I would be annoyed with her. I would paint picture after picture of the person I loved and hated. I would get a rash. I would get into an accident. I would eat the cake offered to me, although I did not want it. I would injure myself. I would hallucinate that I am having sex with my friend, and during this scene there would be a ripping, chewing sound. The scene is obviously misogynist. But it felt so real. I would peel skin away from my fingernails in long strips. It would happen in the bathroom. My friend would perform my role in my absence. I would perform my friend's role in her absence. I would sleep with the director. I would wish to sleep with the director. I would be left alone in the building.

I would betray my friend. My friend would betray me. I would feel the envy and aggression of others keenly. I would feel envious and aggressive towards others. I would seem rather childish. I would be rigid and controlling. I would pass out. I would scratch my back until it bled, and wear clothing designed to cover these scratches. I would not be part of the group. I would discover her in my room, wearing my costume, I would congratulate her, kiss her, shove her into the mirror and hide her body. Only then would I notice my own wound. Crying as I watched her performance.