Sitting here admiring my pair of tattered Pointe shoes, I can’t help but reflect on my past dreams and ponder about future ambitions. Once upon a time, I found beauty in the simplest of steps, grace in my blistered feet, and a delight for the soreness radiating through my body as my feet hit the ground. Long hours at the studio, shuttling from one state to another for competitions, and drinking Gatorade by the gallon were the only things I knew, they were what I lived for. I breathed for the music and my heart beat to the rhythm, my hands and feet were shaken by everything from the most melodic classical compositions to the more extreme and cadenced urban beats. A tune in my ear was carried out through every inch of my body; even the dr
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