This box is the bane of my existence. I can never seem to fill it full of witty and spontaneous comments about myself. One way or the other I come out sounding dull or pretentious. Cue my dramatic sigh.
What can I say about myself? I have a loving boyfriend and more friends than I could possibly ask for. I'm happy in my life right now.. . . .
...I'm a staunch atheist, and I my new pet hate is religious funerals. I'll leave this here and come back some other time to this thorn in my side.

Oh by the way I'm fifteen. And you can call me kitten ;D

My passion is ...

pyschology.

I know too much about ...

the suicide ripple.

My parents always told me ...

I'd become a writer.

My childhood ambition ...

to be an interior degisner.

My favorite memory ...

losing my... ... religion. .. ..

Why I write ...

sure, why not?

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

Hunger/grey's anatomy/tool.

My first job ...

bread-and-jam stand

My best moment ...

is whenever I'm not angry.

My inspiration ...

life.

Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: People in our lives

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I am asked to describe. It is required of me to describe. All I can do is create.

Under the velvet of my mind he takes shape. First what I could only describe as tufts of hair, intermittently soft and with a fierce quality to the fine hairs, like those of a brush. The tight curls at the nape of his neck don't quite cover the small brown mole. His eyebrows are splayed across his face, somehow giving definition to his sunken eyes. Sunken is the wrong word. His eyes are set deep into the delicate structure of the lacing bones in his face. His sharp cheek bones come to rest in soft baby chee...

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