Dear Dance, 

My last performance with you ended far too quickly. One moment, I was a little girl, nervously stepping onstage in my tiny tutu, searching for my teachers in the wings trying to follow the simple steps. My heart beat was faster than the rhythm, the stage felt endless, the lights were enormous, and my dance career felt like it would last forever. 

Then, I blinked and what felt like forever ended in my final breath on the nationals stage, but this time, I am older, stronger, and surrounded by the best friends I made through you, wishing I could steal just two more minutes before I have to run off the stage. 

Towards the end of my studio days, spending roughly 15 hours a week in a studio with you felt like my career couldn’t end soon enough. My desire to quit was intense. It felt like I was getting little to nowhere with you, and I simply felt burnt out. The teachers I had weren’t giving me enough confidence and strength I needed to make me better so instead of quitting I moved studios. 

Now, spending roughly 17 hours a week in a different studio with different friends, I slowly found my love for you again. My teachers’ corrections were harsh but I knew they were out of tough love and a want for me to improve more and more each day. I didn’t feel stuck anymore, and my confidence grew exponentially and it grew enough for me to try out for the high school dance team.

My first tryouts were a blur and so was my freshman year season. I don’t remember much but my memory began to sharpen towards the end of my freshman year when I would train for hours in the off season. My constant fear freshman year didn’t disappear but it turned into determination. When sophomore year tryouts came around, I walked in still nervous but ready and when I made the Varsity team it showed me that my persistence meant something and I was capable of growth. 

My first year on Varsity was nothing short of playing catch up. If i’m being honest, my goal that year wasn’t to stand out, it simply was to not to mess up, fall behind, and not be the weakest link. Every practice felt like an unspoken test, and I carried quite the pressure of me wanting to uphold the standards I set for myself. Beyond the endless pressure I put on myself, that season became something far more meaningful than I ever thought. It wasn’t just a season of self doubt and pressure, but a season of self growth and belonging. 

That year I became a State Champion for the first time. Even now, the title still feels surreal, but what made that year unforgettable was the coaches that saw the potential in me even though I struggled to see it within myself. Including the teammates that became my best friends and pushed me to become a better athlete not just for myself, but for the team. 

Closing off my sophomore year I was more than ready to tackle my junior year season with confidence and experience. I had grown not only as a dancer, but I had mentally grown stonger, focused, and even more determined to push myself further than before. To close out my junior year season, my team and I finished the year bringing home the title of second in the nation- an accomplishment that felt way out of reach, but nonetheless we achieved it. 

Right when I got home from nationals it hit me that I would be heading into my final season as a dancer. The bittersweet rush of emotions piled all together and I knew I had to end the season with no regrets and leave a mark on the team that has taught me so much about myself.  

Our competition season came faster than expected, and as a captain I felt the pressure to embody a standard that was set incredibly high for the team. Suddenly, our 18 hour choreography weekends were behind us. It was time to take what we have been perfecting in the studio and perform it for feedback, and most importantly ourselves. We achieved more than we expected in the early stages of our season, but we weren’t finished. 

Winter break practices broke me down, yet built me back up. The five hour practices with intense cleaning details, and holding every teammate accountable was challenging, yet paid off for the rest of the season. 

As my final season was coming to a close we had two more important competitions left: State and Nationals. I haven’t been to State since sophomore year and I was determined to win another title before graduating. 

On the first day of State we didn’t deliver our strongest performance. When the rankings for day one were announced we were sitting in fourth place, it stung. My competitive side was hurt, and most importantly I felt like I let my team down. 

That night we went to work. We told ourselves we weren’t going to dwell on the ranking but focus on the response. The next day, we weren’t focused on anything except leaving everything out on the floor and emptying our tanks. When we received first place in the State that feeling was indescribable. I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of myself and my team of accomplishing something that seemed nearly impossible to clench. 

When we left for Nationals we were placed in a harder division and only made it to jazz finals. On my last circle up and team prayer before hitting the stage I couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia and warmth hug me for all of the hard work and dedication I have put into the art and sport. 

As I danced my final dance my eyes began to water as I realized, this is it. The long hours, the never ending injuries, the constant questions if I am ever good enough has come to an end. Even though the tears were sad, they were also tears of gratitude. 

Dance, you have taught me discipline, hard work, to keep going even if the mind and body are tired, and my confidence is shaken. Even in the 30 hour weeks, injuries that felt like they would never end, and the constant doubt, you taught me to push through and know that there is something bigger and better waiting for me on the other side. 

I can’t thank you enough for everything you have taught me, and the confidence you gave me to be the person I am today, this is truly a hard goodbye. 

 Sincerely, 

Sophia Brincat