What if I don't get a place?

I was a difficult child. My Mum'll tell you- just ask. I was arrogant, yet shy. Outspoken yet crushed by criticism, and plagued by self-doubt. I was bright, but not as clever or as talented as I wanted to be. I looked odd. I was bossy. I was highly moral. I was self-righteous. I loved to show off. I was picked on for being snobby and different.
There was an after school dance group at my middle school. Hutton Youth Dance Theatre. I was ten and it was perfect for me. That was when I fell in love with contemporary dance.
I became part of a club that appreciated music and movement. The older dancers wore their hair and clothes differently. They weren't afraid to be different. I found that I felt confident and this allowed me to be who I wanted to be without fear of criticism.

I was bullied very badly during the time I was with the group, and it was my solace. I was quite good at dancing- I loved to choreograph and adored performing. We also had a couple of very attractive older boys to lust after. We were encouraged to use our experiences and emotions when improvising and performing. I cannot begin to express how fabulous this is for the angst-ridden, overdramatic throbbing hormone of a girl I was then.
Perhaps more importantly it helped some less fortunate than me to express their frustration anger and sadness.
We grew in strength both inside and out. Some of the group would certainly be in prison if it weren't for weekly rehearsals and the threat of expulsion from performing if we got into trouble.
Unfortunately when I left middle school the group phased out and I stopped dancing. Love of boys overtook my love for sweatpants and aching thighs.
There followed a stormy three years. I passed my GSCE's- against all odds (the odds being me and my inability to adhere to the rules, attend school, listen to my parents, avoid other illegal activities.) I should've failed due to a fatal combination of laziness and precociousness.
My Mum and teachers suddenly decided that A'levels at school would be the best route. I wanted to go to the local community college which was located right next to the university, where I could hang out in the student union and play at being a fresher (most of my friends/boyfriend were older and either at Uni or on their way.) They won that round and one disastrous year later I was asked to leave by the sixth form head, and faced a devastating ultimatum from my Mother (get some A'levels or get a job, madam.)
I enrolled for three A'levels on a revision course at Bradford and Ilkley Community College. I would take the exams for three new A'levels in a years time (I couldn't bare the thought of starting from scratch and being stuck at home for another year.)
My teachers at school had encouraged me to apply to read English and History at University. I wasn't so keen on the idea. I had begun to realise that I missed Dance. I wanted to bring it back into my life, and I'd found a doorway.
I applied to study Dance Studies with Sociology at Roehampton University, London- a long way from home. The day of my audition my boyfriend drove me to london. The sun twinkled its reflection on the lake outside the stately home that would be my college and dorm and I was hooked.
Fate was on my side. I scraped some A'levels, and landed a place at the best University site outside oxbridge.
I loved my three years study. I grew as an academic and a woman. My passion for the arts within the community grew- yet I was unsure of my abilities. I didn't know quite where I wanted to take my new learning (although I had an idea) and I was skint and in love.
Once again I turned away from dance and moved onto different pursuits- new careers, marriage and children.
Here I am again, that door has opened a chink, and now I know a little bit more about myself and the world, I think I know what I can do with my love, my experience and my precociousness.
I am applying to study a Masters degree in Dance Movement Therapy.