I have danced ballet since the age of three, but it was at thirteen that I experienced a moment not unlike a scene in a romance novel in which the characters are thunderstruck by the realization they are in love. Suddenly I realized that I wanted to dance more, and I wanted to dance forever, and I wanted to give ballet everything.
I consider myself lucky amongst my peers: not many kids are afforded the opportunity to really and voluntarily sacrifice for the love of something as arbitrary as art. But ballet demands sacrifice, and I wouldn 't be me without it. When my father 's kidneys failed, I danced. When I felt like giving up at school, I danced. When my grandmother died, I danced. To call dance an outlet or an escape from daily life would be misleading--I danced despite these hardships, not because of them. I might even call daily life an outlet for anything I cannot express in the studio: once in ballet class, I leave my problems at the door.
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It has shown me how to keep going when I feel like crying and how to power through when I just want to take a nap. It has given me the most beautiful friendships and mentorships I have ever experienced, something that comes easily when so many people have to do stressful work together towards a common goal. Dance forced me to organize myself and to stay on top of things--not just physical but emotional discipline. It has taught me what the real meaning of hard work is, and has changed the way I approach my faults--from berating myself for not being good enough to constructively working to get better. People complain that dance gives girls bad body image, but my strong, able body gave me the confidence to finally and wholly reject the eating disorder that had followed me on-and-off since middle