I am alive,
I twirled around twice, and landed
in a demi plie arabesque.
I took my time
finding my center,
then I brushed through
first to start my never ending
routine of fouettes.

I looked out into the audience
and I see my parents’ faces
light up like a little kid’s on Christmas day.
My mom and my eyes locked
for the split second that my face was towards her,
and I could see her eyes
starting to swell with joy.

I walk off the stage
and reality starts to rush back,
I am covered in sweat
I can feel the unpopped blisters rising
My costume is sticky
I can feel the cracked toenail starting to bleed
My hair is a mess
I can feel the popped blisters burning
My make-up is running
My shoes are broken

I can no longer feel my face or leg muscles
but it is alright because for those
past three minutes I was
the real me,
and I was happier than I had ever been.

I go back stage and
all of my friends congratulate me,
and I go up to my best friend and say,
“I’m never quitting,
This is going to be my life
For the rest of my life!”
She doesn’t understand…

Dancing is my life.
I am free,
and I feel as if I am flying.
I express myself and what I am feeling
in a different way that reading or writing.
People notice different things about me
that they have never seen before.
Those people see me
for who I want to be,
not for who they see me as.
My life will never be the same
because
I am alive, and
I can never go back.