But everybody’s allowed to be deep and poetic on an airplane. That’s why they supply earplugs.

Brains are so weird. They’re so rude to keep their smarts to themselves.

The earliest story I still have that I wrote was when I was nine years old. It’s so bad it hurts.

I think I’m tired of living in a moment in history.

The only other time I have ever seen people bring up dead things like blogs and bands is when they’re about to kill it for good.

If I were to write a letter to the person I was a year ago, I would say to focus on the fabric of my life.

Emotions are kind of new to me.

I am so selfishly heartbroken right now.

There are times in your life when you can do nothing in the face of pain but laugh.

Have you ever encountered a person, place, or thing, that you instantly fell in love with?

It has been almost two full weeks since returning from Paris, and I am only just now recovering.

They say it takes 21 days to form a habit. Don’t ask me who says it.

The oddest thing happened to me the other day.

For most of my life, I have existed inside a comfort zone.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: airports are, objectively, one of the coolest places in creation.

If I were to allow myself to hope, it would be to hope that I would pour my heart and soul into writing here and showing all that I do, and I would immediately become a national phenomenon like Julie Powell.