Rome: The Ballerina by Grey Huffington

I am not The Chemist…
I am not The Therapist…
I am not The Huntress…
I am not The Madam…
I am not The Handler…
I am not The Cleaner
I am not The Surgeon
I am The Baby…
The Ballerina…
Balle…

A twenty-something woman with a paved path who is still on the road to self-discovery. While life has presented me with its softer side, there is one thing that has proved to be difficult for me.
Him.
His touch.
His voice.
His presence.
His love.

In every lifetime, I’d loved him and I knew this one wouldn’t make a difference. Our paths were destined to meet. The question was always when. While patience forced the progression of my passion as a ballerina, I longed for him day in and day out. I closed my eyes often, hoping to meet him in the same place I had always–my dreams.
What we had couldn’t be duplicated, erased, arranged, diluted, defused, confused, or mistaken for anything else. Fated love. It was rare. It was wild. It was raw. It was real.
And every time I considered settling for someone in the meantime, I remembered him and I remembered all that he was. He was light. He was love. He was gentle. He was kind. He was patient. He was stable. He was security. He was stillness. He was softness. He was slowness.
So, when our paths finally crossed, I was utterly disappointed to discover he’d created a life with someone else. Someone close. Someone beautiful. Someone bright. And, someone who had to make room for me because it was highly disrespectful to interfere with fate. Our fate, nonetheless.
Even on my paved path, I was not above Childers’ activities.
The Ballerina is someone I became…
A Childers is who I am.
To my core.