If there is something that I have learned in the past sixteen years, it is that yearning for acceptance and appreciation from someone who does not care sixpence about you is a waste of time.

When I was a kid, I loved ballet. No, that is not true. I still love ballet. The graceful movements of the dancers fill me with the same awe today, as it did years before. The difference lies in the fact that back then, becoming a ballet dancer was my dream.

Little kids have grand aspirations. Autumn wanted to be a real life superhero when she grew up, complete with the vest and weapons. Her mom and dad have a laugh over it even now whenever the topic is on the table, much to her chagrin.

I think the dreams that we have as kids are mostly based on the idea formed in our tiny minds as to the working of the world.

Autumn wanted to be a superhero because her favourite TV show had one, who was always there to save the day. Her ambition might have been replaced by a more realistic and practical one, but that does not take away from Autumn's character her quality of helping others. It is one reason why she stayed as my friend, despite the fact that I got marked as the black sheep among my classmates. She has always been aware that I carry a headload of secrets but has never pointed a finger at me for keeping them from her. Instead she has always tried to be understanding and had my back for years. Still has.

This is not to say that we have never quarrelled. Of course we had our share of fights, which is hard to believe now that I think of it. I guess she brings out both the best and the worst in me.

I started my journal on one topic and veered off to another. Just as well. Autumn may have aspired to be a superhero. But from all the stories that her parents have shared about it, I have never got an indication to show that they discouraged her. They joke about it now that she has grown up, but from what I can gather, they used to share with anyone who would listen that their daughter wants to be a superhero.

She is lucky to have such parents.

Some of the guests that came over on dad's invitation used to ask me what my goals in life were. 'To be a world renowned ballet dancer' was my stock reply to that for a long time. The reactions I got were very different, ranging from big smiles to a pat on the head, or if I am really lucky, a chance to show a twirl or two.

Not so with dad though. He would laugh out loud whenever I said anything about being a ballet dancer. The only reason I was allowed to learn the basics was because the teacher who taught ballet at school insisted.

Fathers are supposed to be supportive of the aims of their children. At the very least, they ought to dissuade their wards with gentle words and not snide remarks. Apparently, dad was not aware of this chapter of parenthood. He had never once attended any of my recitals and yet was so certain of my lack of skills that he announced it to the audience every chance he got.

I am still in the dark with regards to his motive in behaving this way. I can only make assumptions, and the best I could come up with was that he loathed my very existence. Why else would a father humiliate his own daughter, a little child at that, every chance he got?

The thing is, I did not mind his indifference or his cruel digs. What I would never forgive him for is what he did to me when I was in fourth grade.

I was selected that year to be the lead of the elementary school troupe for the annual dance showcase event. It was a big honour. For me, it was a significant step towards achieving the dream of my life.

Naturally, I wanted it to be perfect. Knowing that I will not be getting permission to stay after hours at school, I squeezed in my practice between classes. Slacking in studies was not an option. To sum it up, I was basically thinning myself out at that time.

I had no complaints, as I was getting to do what I have always wanted to. That had been a golden opportunity not just because I was to lead the dancers, but also as it meant that a major chunk of the spotlight would be on me. The attention might have translated into recognition as I moved up the classes.

You only get what is written in your stars. If it is not meant for you, it will not be yours no matter how hard you work for it. One more lesson I owe to dad.

I had informed him of my selection as soon as it was confirmed. In my excitement and nervousness, I had hastened to assure him that his presence was not mandatory, lest he decided that I could not participate because he cannot attend. He interpreted my assurance in an entirely different way.l

On the day of the event, I was supposed to reach school at five and was ready by quarter past four. Dad had told me the previous day that he would be taking me to school. I was surprised, but happy. I thought that it would be the day when he would finally see his daughter dance, and maybe, if I tried hard, I might make him proud and change his conception. What a day would it then be!

It was a ten minute ride to school. The jittery nerves and the thrill of the anticipation had clouded my mind so much that I did not, at first, realise that I had been in the car for more than ten minutes. Even when it dawned upon me, I was not that worried because I trusted dad to get me to school on time.

Trust. One uses it with such laxity of thought, that the responsibility and security we place in a person with that five letter word is often forgotten.

By the time the intention of dad became clear to me, it was too late. I had missed the programme.

A ballet recital with a missing lead.

The faith that our teacher had in my dedication was so much so that there was no stand by for me. The dance did take place, but without the centrepiece, it apparently resembled a headless chicken on stage.

What I did not take into account amidst all this was that this could have been a chance to redeem myself to my classmates. Dad's actions not only cost me my dream, but also my reputation at school.

I had let down my team, my teacher and my school. There was no chance of redemption anymore.

All thanks to dad.

His reasoning for his actions was that he did not want me to be a defying brat. Evidently, when I said that his attendance was not compulsory, he had taken it to mean that I was purposely trying to prevent him from attending the event. This, coming from the man who had always refused whenever I begged of him.

I had cried my heart out that day as well as the rest of the week. I could not even meet the eyes of my teacher or my teammates. Snide remarks and contemptuous glances followed me. Autumn had to remain helpless for she did not know how to defend me as I could not share the truth with her.

Till then, I was the quiet and shy geek of the class. But from that day onwards, there was no compassion or friendliness for me in the minds of my classmates for the rest of the year. It was only when I graduated to junior high that the animosity started to mitigate. I do not think that the supposed betrayal has faded from the memory of all even today.

As for the teacher, I did not conjure enough courage to talk to her for two years. I did apologize afterwards which she accepted, but the warmth in the relationship had extinguished completely.

My fault in the whole incident was the trust that I had in dad and the false conviction that I could change the light in which he viewed me. I will probably regret it for the rest of my life.