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From the age of three to 15, I wanted to be a ballerina and trained really, really hard. Then I had that classic movie story moment, where I had an injury and had to give up my dream.

I wanted to be a skinny little ballerina but I was a voluptuous little Italian girl whose dad had meatballs on the table every night.

I wanted to be a ballerina so badly. You can be seen and take over the spotlight without speaking. I had a fear of speaking in public back then.

I was a sensitive boy.

I wanted to be a ballet dancer. I was bad - I'm not very coordinated. But I always wished I could have been a dancer.

I was a really nervous kid. I was extremely sensitive. Incredibly perceptive.

When I was fifteen, I dreamed of living in the big city, as many a young person does if he is artistic and sensitive. By 'artistic and sensitive' I mean short, skinny, unkissed, bad at sports, and carrying a C average in high school.

When I was five years old, I told my parents that I wanted to take ballet. So, ballet was the focus of my life... until puberty. Then I discovered boys and started dating a guy with a mohawk who'd come to my ballet class and freak everybody out. Shortly after that is when I quit.

I thought I wasn't attractive or talented anymore. I cried easily and was depressed and removed. I became emotionally insecure about what the second half of my life would bring. I was angry, scared, frightened and lonely.

I always wanted to perform in some capacity since I was a kid - I was a ballerina, then a singer before acting.