Waiting backstage before the big performance, her stomach is turning and twisting into knots. In costume and makeup almost all ready. She procrastinates putting on her pointe shoes, delicate and dainty as they look, the pain harbored up inside of them waits to relinquish upon her feet. Stretching her muscles thoroughly, warming them up and getting the blood to surge through her veins. As her heart beats at the speed of a humming birds wings, her dance instructor stands next to her, tugging on her tutu, nattering at her. All of this adding to the constant motion of thoughts in her head, choreography and corrections swirling like a tornado throughout her brain. As she bends over touching her toes, the tule of the tutu flops over her shoulders; a veil hiding her from the world, hiding her from the realization that this is her one and only chance. Scratching at her shoulders, nervous sweat beading along her hairline, she awaits her moment to step out onto stage.