purple glittered fame.
Winning - It's when everything makes perfect sense.
You know that feeling? When you finally grasp the verity that everything – count in the sweat, the bruises, the wounds and the pains – everything has got NOTHING against the feeling of WINNING. You have complained so much, cursed a lot, screwed up bad during practices and made yourself a sheer tool of winning – you thought everything just sucked; but when you really get there, nothing really mattered anymore, nothing but the winning.
The feeling was epic; it was not about the trophy, the crowd's applause while we performed, or the fame - It was about all the sweat, the scolding we had to go through, the hurtful words we had to ignore, the many times we skipped meals just so that we'd fit perfectly in those skimpy costumes, the nights we had spent on practicing instead of making homeworks, the sleeping hours we had to sacrifice just for practices, THE LATE NIGHT REHEARSALS, which we'd all be missing now.
Can you imagine sweaty pumpkins like them turning into glittered winners? I can. Because I know how they worked their freakin' guts off just for that one moment. Because I know that the whole two months of practicing would be for that only fifteen minutes in the battlefield, and that we only had that one shot in proving ourselves.
Oh and one more thing - it was not the the dance steps and cheers we learned that made rehearsals unforgettable, it was those times when we felt that we were not alone, and that we were definitely not isolated; that there are indeed those who cared for us, FOR REAL. Now I can truly say that WE ARE ONE - The upperclassmen never made us feel that we are inferior in a way that we had to be slaves. They were only there, to guide us in every step and give us the inspiration to go through everything.
Propsmen, Cheerers, Costume people, Cheerleaders, Instuctors, Food people - they all mean the same
: People who worked their guts off for a history called GRANDSLAM