I fell in love with words from the moment I heard my first stories. The times when Papa or Mama read out loud were sacred; I relished listening to their melodious voices along with the magical images that the words fabricated in front of me. When I learned how to write in first grade I knew it was a passion that I would never lose. Instead of playing outside with the other kids I read or fantasized about fictional characters. I was quiet, reserved, and trembled every time I was forced to speak.
When I was in twelve I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa, which destroyed my childhood to the point where for a time I forgot how to smile. Anorexia still haunts me and the deep self-loathing that I also had continues to wash over me in waves of depression. I write for recovery, to relish in the darkness of the mind, to find beauty in sadness, to diminish some of the pain of life, and simply because I love to write. I marvel at the power of words.