Thank you. You’ve made me realize what kind of parents you are - bullshit. You’re lying hypocrites. You words are shit and my senior ad was a lie. You don’t care about what I want to do. You don’t support any of my dreams or goals. I’m not a game or a puppet. You can take my phone away, but I won’t stop dancing. You can take the car away, but I won’t stop dancing. You can make me go to summer school, but I won’t stop dancing. You can make me get a job, but I won’t stop dancing. You can lecture me all you want, but I won’t stop dancing. Tell me anything you want, but I’ll probably be thinking about dancing. Not once have I ever said I wanted to make a career out of dance, but I promise I’m going to keep it apart of me as much as possible. When I graduate from UCLA, you’ll be sorry.
Oh and another thing, I’m going to be a kick ass USA Instructor and there’s not a damn fucking thing you can do about it!
