This is me, and this is Meg, Fanny, and Evelina. Women I lived with at @mammothcrib last week.

The last week has been such a beautiful whirlwind.

Why do I keep fighting for my weaknesses?

The words I've been searching for are evading me, hiding in the dark depths of my mind.

... and I hope they don't.

My heart, my soul, my feelings.

To feel reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.

To pack a 3-week trip into less than 30 seconds feels unfair to the moments that made an impact on me.

This is me...

Bury me in a bed of rosemary.

I hadn't expected to return to this island in Croatia, with turquoise blue waters lapping its shores, but I'm damn glad I did.

My love language isn't one of the traditional five.

If I stopped smiling, would you notice?

I've been noticing how much of the world is ruled by paradoxes.

Sometimes I want to be cashmere, not wool.

The capacity, the opportunity, the future.

She is a funny thing, isn't she?

You've fallen in love with the idea of me.

Last weekend I ran my first ultramarathon.

I think about the way you make me feel... like I'm 22 again, like I'm 18 again, like I'm 16 again, like I'm young and in love again.