monroe, pearl s.

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full name pearl sylvie monroe age 21 home town dixie, alabama current city nyc, new york education joffery ballet school in nyc, ny occupation ballerina ________________________________________ When I recount this story, I am always told that I mix up the end and the beginning. Surely I, who lived through every moment and trial wouldn't know where it started and where it ceased. This isn't a story about Desmond. It isn't a story about my fourteen day marriage. It isn't even a story about divorce. It's a story about a beginning and not much else. People assume that I define my life by the years leading up to a mere two weeks. I've told the story, time and time again, about how Desmond and I got to that point, but I'm tired of telling it. So I'll tell another. I get itchy, the itch to always be moving. My mother used to chalk it up to the fact that I was a dancer, but I don't think it has much to do with that. Dancing, in some ways, has kept me grounded. Here for two years, there for six months, back in New York to teach classes on a one year contract. All these periods of time, however short, are still longer than I'd like to stay in any place, but there are times where the money runs out and where it's necessary to stay alive. It's all fine and good to pack up and leave, but the world still turns on economics and money. So, I sold my condo in Australia, all my furniture. I threw out my makeup and the majority of my clothes and I packed a backpacks worth of personal items. I was in Turkey for three months, not doing charity work of any sort, but laid on the beach and learned how to meditate. It was all a little Eat, Pray, Love, though the love bit was less about loving someone else and more about loving what was around me. Turkey was the end. Not Bali, not Desmond, not my marriage. This time, in New York? This is the beginning. ________________________________________ I never wanted to think too hard about Dasia, and what their relationship said about me. I had never seen myself as an assertive person, both before and after Desmond, but it was my genuine thought that he would one day burst out, however small, with some evidence that he loved me too. But it was Dasia, perfection personified, that ended up with all those little things. And how was I ever to compete with that? Leggy, more curvy than I could ever dream of being. Standing us next to one another is like comparing girl and woman. When she's around my clothes don't fit right, I'm clumsier than usual. I can see why Desmond found it easy to devote more time to her than he ever had for me. She's vivacious, logical, and a degree of gorgeous that a normal human being could never aspire to be. I was dreamy, girlish, and far too optimistic, which, we all know that Desmond is definitely not. ________________________________________ ________________________________________ your name holly play-by elsa your most recent work meowmeow is the password to my macbook