Chaos with Cait

Self love is not a luxury, it is your birthright. A promise that you will always belong to yourself first.

There is magic in the way that I forgive myself.

In the hush of morning light my teacup steams like a potion, whispering warmth into my palms. On some days, sidewalk cracks bloom with brave little flowers, tiny guardians of forgotten magic. Even the wind that wandering storyteller tucks secrets into my hair as I pass. And when the sun slips low, turning windows into molten gold, I remember. I remember that life doesn’t need grand miracles to be extraordinary. Life only needs one thing. And that is a heart, a heart that is w

Sleep is not rest for me. Sleep is just my quieter version of drowning.

My life feels like a sketch, erased and redrawn. Time and time again. Starting over somehow always feels inevitable. But, I know that there are lines of me out there, still searching for their shape. Even if, they have been lost, for some time in the constant scribble and erase.

Hope feels too bright for these hands, but I keep reaching anyway.

Half gone, half becoming like every secret I’ve ever kept.