Chaos with Cait

Your worth was never up for debate. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me?

Little flame, I see you. I see you shivering beneath the weight of a world too heavy for your small, bright hands. You thought the breaking was your becoming, that pain was proof you were unworthy of magic. But listen here, you were never the ruin you were always the spark. Every time you cried into the dark, something ancient whispered back to you. Every time you thought you were alone, your future self was screaming through the cracks, for you to hold on. You are going to g

yes to rest yes to rising late yes to gold hoops and silence yes to leaving before it hurts yes to softness yes to flame yes to not explaining why yes to what I love yes to who I am yes to who I’ve yet to become yes to every no, that saved my life yes to me.

I build mosaics from everything I’ve survived and call it art. I look at all the broken pieces of me, and I see a brand new start.

I am both the storm and the bloom, the ache and the afterglow.

The horizon is endless, and so am I.

My purpose? To burn the cages they tried to build around my name. To blaze through silence, to scorch the comfort of those who tried to contain me. I am fire. they cannot hold me.

I am not negotiable. My worth is not currency. My worth is a crown, it is fire, it is law. I bend for no one, bow to nothing, and burn the hands that try to measure me. I am unclaimed, unstoppable, unbound.

My touch lingers like honey on the tongue, a sweetness that burns long after it’s gone.

Some will not understand. But, that is proof you are speaking a rare language. Dare to be different.

I outgrew the cages you built for me. Now, watch me make the sky mine.

I bloom slow on purpose, every petal, deliberate. Every petal, mine.

Yesterday’s dreams don't fit today’s bones, but I still carry their echo.

Inhale the ache, the memory, the weight of what was. Exhale the grip, the ghost, the need to pretend. Breath is my anchor. Breath is my rebellion. Each inhale: I choose to stay. Each exhale: I learn to let go. I am not just alive, I am becoming. I am not just surviving, I am rising.

My tears are not weakness they are rivers making space for tomorrow. Where my shadows dance among forgotten days.

I am the laugh caught in a throat full of sorrow, both, light and shadow braiding themselves whole.

My map is a blur, ink bleeding into fog, yet my feet keep on moving.

My softness is barbed wire, you may enter, but only if I open the gate.

The world calls me fragile, but my wings are knives of light; delicate, yes, yet capable of cutting through darkness.

Outcast is only another word for free, a cage with no walls, and no ceilings.