Chaos with Cait

My patience these days is non existent. I’m easily irritated by microscopic things. Maybe I am overwhelmed. Maybe I feel unsettled. Maybe I’ve just had enough. Maybe I just can’t find my footing. I am not sure what the source is really. And yet, here I am with little to no patience left to give.

I remember the days when I knew so much about you, your inner world and the pieces of you few others knew. I remember the days we used to speak from sun up to sun down. I remember feeling so close to you, I could have been a part of your own skin.

I wait for you to notice me. I have never left your side my wings flutter above you softly, yet rapidly most times just out of sight. I have been praying for your softness to come back to the light. So we might be able to sit, talk and laugh for a while. I am always here for you. So, remember me and perhaps one day we’ll kiss again.

Forgiveness lives in her mouth, but so does fire.

Settling doesn’t look good on anybody, you especially. I dare you to take the risk. I double dare you to set yourself free finally.

My soul reaches out with open palms and a hopeful heart, waiting for someone to recognize the gentle shape of how I am built. Not to change its edges or ask it to become something easier to hold but to see the quiet light it has always carried, and meet it with hands that never mistake softness for weakness. To be known without making myself less, and loved in the language I have always spoken.

There are bigger things ahead for you. Can you believe that? Do you trust me, and the things that I say?

She did not wake fearless. One morning, she simply decided that fear would no longer make the decisions. And that, right there, was enough to begin again.

Energy is magic. Feel it. Shape it. Let it’s frequency move through you.

I am no longer afraid of my own hunger. I am excited by the vast space within me, making room for all the life yet to come.

I am worn down and tired from having to smile through every one of life's inconveniences. I am sick of swallowing my suffering no matter how superficial it may be.

The moon told me that even my shadows are sacred. I think I am finally starting to believe her.

The sky was extra beautiful today. And I, equate that to you being up there.

Tomorrow is never promised. And I, am tired of living like it is.

My dreams, once sharp as glass now shimmer soft, and shapeless. Still, they have not left me.

Who do you think you are? ghosting me so frequently. “Ghosting” is a bit harsh. Ok. Fine. You have grown comfortable walking through my doors like they’re revolving.

Break free, love. Let fear fall like old petals that you’ve outgrown. You were made to shine, and the world has been waiting for your color.

Pickles, tiny little hearts in brine, thank you. For the salt, the sour, the garlic and the crunch. Your small green selves are testimony that even a ghost can keep something alive. Perhaps it is love that keeps my heart beating. Perhaps it is pickles. Either way, I am grateful.

Somewhere beneath all of my aching, a soft voice whispers you will not always feel this way.

I believe that you are beautiful. I believe that you are strong. I believe that you are courageous. I believe that you are kind. I believe that you can do anything. I believe that you can heal. I believe that you can shine. I believe that you can move forward. I believe that you are divine. I believe in you.