Toes crackling, knees bent and arms sore. As I leapt into the next jump nearly slipping off the stage, hair tie plunged. Three on stage. It was as if I had never practiced this in my life. The dazzling gray dress came in handy. Only when it caught the toes that bent out of place. Long enough to cover half of my mistakes.

The inky black lights dimmed as I hobbled off of the stage. The next piece I would truly do well in. It was a modern dance. One I had been rehearsing it for over three months. As I forcefully slithered my black dress down my lengthy body, the announcer called for us.

Ballet shoes squeezed to the ankle. I bent over to get in my opening position and slowly lifted my arm to first position and then hoisted my leg. As the beat dropped so did my pose as I awkwardly fell out of place. Four on stage. I was clearly in sight, and for a ten year old girl, this was uncomfortable.

Boom Boom. Left right left. Leap, undercut and closing turn. Two minutes of music. About thirty seconds of dancing. I completed less than ten seconds of it all. Nervous and exhausted I ran off the stage before the ending. I failed.

I unhooked the black dress. Ripped off my shoes, and hurdled down the stairs, only to find my parents and siblings standing with flowers and cake. My first recital. My first failure. My first found love. I skidded off the stage. Bruised my big toe. It didn’t matter to them, because I wasn’t a failure to them. I kept a phony smile on my face that actually worked. I found it that night.. Dancing was my first. I was horrible, and I will never look at that stage the same again. But now after four years, I command the stage, toes crackling and all.