Chaos with Cait

I know that there is always room for wonder. I know that there is always time for beginning again. I won’t.. let anybody tell me anything different.

I wonder about it all. I wonder why everything is the way that it is. I wonder if what we know, is even true. I wonder if there is room for change in life’s game. I wonder about the different outcomes in different circumstances, and how they vary for both me and you. I wonder about people’s internal worlds. I wonder about all of the things they could have gone through. I wonder about this timeline and the role that I play in it. I wonder so much that my brain is always worki

For once, I have chosen not to step back. Instead, I keep on choosing to stay.

I did not grow tall, I grew true. I was bent by wild wind, there were times when I wanted to give in. But, my roots stayed strong. And so, I may be weathered and a little torn, but I have been reaching towards the sun anyways.

I stopped asking what would happen next and the air suddenly felt lighter. I started believing in my own steps. I started making decisions that felt good for me. I stopped worrying about what’s to come next, and started enjoying the very things that were present in front of me. From here, I laughed a little louder. And I recognized that my own mind was the one who was holding me captive. So I breathed a little more frequently, and learned to talk to myself quite gently. I rer

I didn’t know that healing could laugh until I heard it in my own voice. What a journey life has been. And still here I stand, with seasons now changed finally, ready to begin again.

The air grows teeth, and I am chewed by the what ifs. “What if I fail?” “What if the vision takes too long to be materialized?” “What if I never make it?” “What if they laugh at me?” “What if I am misunderstood?” And then it hit me, that maybe, the teeth were mine all along.

I speak fluent hush, and the deep of the night understands me. The moon knows exactly what I mean, even when I choose to say nothing at all.

The thaw doesn’t happen all at once, because our bodies learn warmth in whispers. A fingertip twitches, your breath deepens. And then, finally the air softens around your being.

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

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.

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

he said that my softness was weakness, but I bend like silk and I never break.

If you can, place a hand over your chest. Do you feel that? That steady beat? That is proof that you’re still here, proof that the freeze did not win. So when you’re ready and, not a moment before the thaw will come. Until then, this poem will wait with you unmoving and alive.

She woke one morning, feeling new life in her breath. She woke one morning, and decided again, that she would give life her best. She woke one morning, and decided that she was worth while. She woke one morning, and decided nobody was allowed to steal her smile.

I wake with questions settling on my skin like the morning frost, after a cold night’s freeze..

Change doesn’t ask permission. Change bangs at the door until you remember how to open it.

The path is crooked, but my breath still makes music on the climb. With each step, my lungs decide the tempo even when life claps on the wrong count.

I have been wandering the edges of who I used to be, enjoying a tenderness I almost remember. The silence has grown soft around me, almost kind, therefore I no longer fear the echo of my own steps. Instead, I am eager to take them. Somewhere beneath the doubt that has haunted me, something small is stirring. I feel my pulse, strong as ever. I hear whispers that sound like maybe. Maybe I am not lost, perhaps I have only been waiting to remember the way back to myself.