When I was five years old, I used to dance around the house pretending I was a ballerina. I would twirl and spin without a care in the world. Those moments of joy rarely lasted long, as there was always a boogey man hiding under the bed. My mother taught me to respect my elders, do not talk back, and never question adults' actions.A childhood of mental, physical, and sexual abuse caused a lot of anger and self-hatred. At fifteen years old, I became bulimic and anorexic. Any time I felt that my life was out of control, I turned to my eating disorder. It was always there, promising me that everything would be okay if I just followed the rules. The problem was that the rules kept changing and I lost all control.Writing poetry saved me from falling into the deep pits of depression . . . This is my journey....