Here's the thing.

The end is so close, I can nearly lick it.

Svetlana Zakharova. My idol.

Today my leaps were the highest I've ever leaped. Which was fitting, for they were the last ones I'll be doing for a long time. I made sure to thank my body for being so nice to me, even when I was anatomically cruel to it. I stayed strong behind my twinkling eyes and smile until I fell into my bed and snuggled down my sheets, completely exhausted and wallowing in pain. I wept. 

I wept for pain. I wept for sorrow. I wept for longing. I wept for loneliness.
I wept for fear of the unknown.

Here's the thing. Four months is a long, long time.  

****Dear Dance,
It's going to be a blue Christmas without you. And New Year's. And January, February, March, and even April. Don't miss me too hard, though, because I'll be back {with a three inch scar} when the sun rises and the flowers bloom.
Yours Truly,
The broken one.****