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I am the fifth of eleven siblings. I grew up in a big family, with good and bad things, but I remember when I was little, Papa came home drunk and bit my mama. I was a quiet girl, always going to the top of a tree to write songs or poems or little stories to scape the domestic violence. When I was in class, sometimes I did not pay attention to my music teacher. I was writing whatever came on my mind, no matter what. I always wrote about my dreams. I’m a dreamer until now, and one of my dreams came true: publishing one of the stories that came to my mind. Writing and reading make me forget about what was going on at home. It was like getting in another world, my world, living in a house without violence, living a happy life because—oh my god, writing this makes my cry. Seeing a father biting your mother is not something a kid wants to see. That’s why I’m writing with tears in my eyes. This is the very simple biography of a girl turning into a woman who only wants to become happy one day.
