I’ve been dancing since I was three and to this day there’s no better feeling than performing on stage. A lot of people don’t understand how intense dancing can be or the ugly side of it. They only see a beautiful outcome after many weeks of practice, sweat, bruises and soreness. It takes dedication from the dancers themselves and their families. There’s a lot of competition and sometimes it can be really unfair. But I’ve made some of the best memories as a dancer, also quite a few pre-show adventures. Dancing is my passion, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  
     I remember one specific show when I was eleven. Like every night before a show, I was having a hard time falling asleep. Thoughts, heartbeats and excitement weren’t allowing my body to rest. I woke up early in the morning and went to school. Right after I got home, I started preparing; stretched, packed my bag and the costumes, did my hair and makeup and I was on my way to the theater. As per usual, the backstage was chaos; dresses thrown everywhere, girls running around and yelling at each other. Eventually everything went silent for a moment. The lights go out, and the first group took their place on stage, curtains opened, and the lights gradually started getting brighter and the music started playing.  
Everything was going great, and we had no problems so far. Dancers kept going on and off the stage and the applauses never stopped. The show was almost over. We had one last closing number and we were changing out of our previous costumes. 
     “Fei,” I heard my name being yelled somewhere in the darkness of the backstage and I managed to spot a girl from the older groups. In a hurry, I walked towards her while trying to take off last dance’s costume.  
     “Hey! What’s up?” I asked.  
     “I can’t find my costume and I’m freaking out. I tried to find Miss Suada, but I can’t find her anywhere. Can you help me?” The girl seemed very worried and frustrated.  
     “Oh! I’m so sorry! I saw Miss Suada going on the other side of the stage. She’s probably there.” 
     “Please can you come with me?”  
     “Sorry, I can’t. I’m already late, I have to change. We’ll be on in two minutes.” The rest of the girls were already lined up to go on.  
     “Oh, come on! I have to find her or else I can’t dance.”  
     “I’m telling you where Miss Suada is, but I can't come with you. I’m sorry.”  
     “Ugh! Fine! I’ll go find her myself.”  
     Frustrated, the girl started walking towards me, pushed me out of the way and went to find our teacher. The Theatre was pretty old, and the backstage not kept very well. On the walls there were rusty heaters, one being really close to where I was standing. When the girl pushed me, I tripped on my untied shoes and almost fell. The heater didn’t allow me to hit the wall, but its sharp and rusty edges cut the side of my stomach. I started freaking out, I was in pain, bleeding, and stressed. Surprisingly I wasn’t thinking much of how bad it hurt, I just had to go on stage no matter what. I found tissues in my bag and used them to cover the fresh scar. I was praying you couldn’t see a stain through my clothes. It burned but I had to put my leotard on and find the rest of the girls. I managed to get on stage before the curtains opened for the final act. My thoughts couldn’t stay silent, I kept thinking I wouldn’t be able to dance. I heard the music starting and immediately all those bad thoughts vanished. Throughout the dance I could feel my skin stretching as I moved as if it was being pulled on the edges of the scar. It burned, but the performance had to be perfect, I had to resist until the end. Finally, the music stopped, and we took one last bow. I was trying so hard to smile. To that point I could barely keep my tears from rolling down my cheeks. I started limping on the way to the backstage and I couldn’t even change out of my leotard. I took a moment, sat at a corner of the backstage and all I was focusing on was my breath. The scar made dancing a torture, the pain unbearable, but I never regretted getting on stage.  
     I walked out of the theater and met with my family. My grandma, like every time, was holding a beautiful bouquet of white roses. It was an after-show tradition now. I hugged my family, took a bunch of photos and we headed home. On the way back the pain got worse. When I got home, I threw my bag inside and rushed to my room. I was crying now, and my hands were shaking. I got in front of my mirror and saw a big red stain on my leotard. I struggled taking it off. The blood had kept the tissues glued to my skin. With an inhale and exhale, I removed the tissues. The area around the scar was blazing and my skin was tingling. Suddenly my mom walked in my room, telling me to come to dinner. She paused halfway through her words and I saw her go pale. She started yelling, crying and kept asking me what happened. I explained everything and when I was done, nothing came out of her mouth. It was an awkward silence until she said how I managed to dance that day. I smiled and said I didn’t know either, but all I wanted to do was perform.  
     That night she helped me clear up the scar and cover it up with gauzes and band aids. It hurt even when I walked but luckily it wasn’t that deep, and it healed pretty quickly. Eventually we informed my teacher what had happened the day of the show. Her reaction was similar to my mother’s. I mean in the end, a good dancer or a performer is the one who knows how to “sell”. It’s all about the expression and the acting; you decide what you want your audience to see. And I learnt that the hard way.   
     My teacher advised me not to dance for the rest of the week until I was almost fully healed. Before I knew it, I was back in rehearsals, thinking that after three months we’d have a new show, and who knows what other adventures I’d go through.  
Throughout the years there’s been a lot of drama when it comes to shows and performing, but I’ll never forget this specific year. It was one specific event that it left a life-long impact; I’ll never forget it. When I look back at the it, I smile with my old self. She makes me proud, inspires and pushes me to commit until the end.