: About Me

Hello.

I am 22 years old and come from Long Island. I grew up in a semi-large suburb (32,000 people). I had lots of fun growing up in a suburb outside of New York City. I take it for granted now that I live away from it.

Currently, I reside in Los Angeles. I lived in Las Vegas for a year and a half with my sister, my mom, and my mom's boyfriend at the time.

I am graduating from college in the next year, hoping to continue with a career in the entertainment industry. I have had a passion for it since I was in the 4th grade.

Journalism and writing in general is something that I have loved all my life.

I had a journalism class in my school recently, and my teacher loved my writing. She told me to do something with it, and I am doing it right here. I am doing it for love and to get my writing out there because what good is it sitting on a folder on your desktop.

Happy writing,
Kelly

My passion is ...

writing screenplays and editing movies

I know too much about ...

useless facts about everything and anything

My parents always told me ...

"all roads lead to roads"

My childhood ambition ...

to be in the entertainment industry

My favorite memory ...

sitting on my grandma's yellow chair, as she listens to opera

Why I write ...

I've always thought of myself as a very creative person. I write to get my creativity out and release inner emotions.

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

It really varies. Some days I will love alternative rock, the next could be R&B, or pop, or country, or 80's. It's all on the same playlist. I watch TV shows all the time. My can't misses are The Office, House, and Scrubs. I'm not reading anything right now, although I do love reading op-ed pieces in newspapers

My first job ...

working as a cashier/drive thru at McDonald's

My best moment ...

going home to see my family every Christmas

My inspiration ...

my family, friends, and anything that intrigues me. I love hearing people talk.

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Death of a loved one

52 of 562

Forget Ago How are you not standing beside me anymore? No ones there greeting me from the door. Touching the bed sheets, my hand trembles. My mind aches to forget what it remembers. The flood in my eyes break from its levee. Grief can even leave the strong feeling heavy. Looking at the closet with your clothes. Your scent dances with love in my nose. Closing the curtains, I leave a little light on. You are coming home late, working hours so long. That was a flashback to a week ago. A routine I have to forget to know. Pull the sheets close and tight like a cocoon. You will be home soon. Oh ...

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Writing:

• Marketplace Approved Writer
• Helium Charter Member