Once again she seems to be at the point of waiting and wondering and a whole lot of self-doubt. No wonder when she spends her days, her life, surrounded by kids and teachers who either despise her or are terrified of her.

They all see her as Coach Corcoran. With her clean, pink fingertips that run over the edge of the sharp white pages of sheet music, her hair that is always pulled into a crisp ponytail behind her head, her tight smile that she sports whenever she gets particularly annoyed. They think she's never had fun, what with all the scolding for drinking and staying out late.

Little do they know that she's spent many a night shirking her duties, preferring to drink tequila shots, to let the room fill with smoke and her head with nothing, to cling to the bed covers and the flesh sharing them until ten in the morning.

At the heart of it all, though, beneath all the routine and practices and lectures, she's lonely. She has nothing but these trophies and these dances to fill the spaces in her lfe. The nights spent alone with Will in his apartment, hands grabbing honey scented skin and chunks of hair and empty words whispered softly into ears, may make her feel wanted but they can only give her so much.

He says he loves her and she thinks she's starting to love him back but it doesn't matter because she still feels wretched half the time. That's why he wakes up with his arms empty, the smell of honey gone, and a note on her pillow a few weeks later. It tells him that she needs to find a place where she doesn't feel claustrophobic, cornered, suffocated all the fucking time. She needs to find a person who she can spill her guts out to and not feel sick afterwards, who can hold her darkest secrets and care in the least difficult way. She loves him but he can't do that for her. She loves him with everything in her so she's starting to hate him.

She loves him so much he makes her miserable.

People have an uncanny knack for doing that to each other.