Chaos with Cait

Your worth does not whisper, it glows steady like a sunrise that refuses to apologize for burning gold. You are a universe made of miracles. Life was not kind, and still you chose softness anyway. Your heart is resilient, it keeps rising even after being split open. Your tenderness is holy, your strength undeniable. Your existence makes the world lean in closer. Adore yourself gently, then fiercely, the way that you were always supposed to. Because you, beloved, are sacred to

I release the year behind me with gratitude, not regret Truthfully, we survived each other. That I count as a win. I welcome what is coming with open hands and steady breath. Curiosity captures me while I dream about what’s to come next. So I no longer demand answers, I only crave change and the shift of a world I once knew. This new year is not a reset, but a continuation of a woman still standing, Still dreaming up a life worth living. This new year, you can find me revived

Some days, the light forgets my name. and I have been too tired to remind it. So, I sit with the darkness in silence waiting for the light to come find me.

I o utgrew the skin that once kept me safe. The air stung at first sharp with honesty, cold with possibility. Now I walk bare, knowing the world can wound me, knowing it can also witness me. And without boarders, I choose the risk of blooming over the comfort of never being seen.

The storm didn’t leave me clean, the storm left me open. But joy still found its way in anyways.

The moon does not judge my shadows. She creates them, then teaches them how to be gentle. My shadows follow me not as burdens, but as proof that I exist proof that I am only human. And what I fear in them, the moon calls honest.

I said yes to a slower, almost still morning and finally met my peace for the first time

I invite my heart to open again, to lay its old fears down like tired shoes at the door. What was, does not get to decide what is becoming. I step forward, curious and hopeful. Because, If love has taught me anything, it is that it always finds a way to win.

My soul has a thousand names, but today it answers to wonder.

There is a place where sickness cannot follow. It lives just past the horizon, where the air is soft, the sun is bright and the sky remembers your name. Here, the rivers run with laughter, and the trees grow tall from every dream you thought you’d lost. And in this peaceful place, when you walk, the ground glows gently beneath your feet. A quiet applause for every time you stayed. There are no hospitals here, no scans, no waiting rooms full of whispers. Only wind, light, and

I am no longer waiting to be chosen. I choose me.

If you see me at all, I hope that you see every shade my ache, my glow, and my unfinished becoming. If you see me at all, I hope that you know I am healing, I am relearning. And, I am enjoying my becoming.

I was born beneath a crooked moon, into a deck already dealt with trembling hands. The stars said hold on, and so I did even when the sky forgot my name. My body has broke and mended, a temple learning its own architecture of grace. There were days I thought the magic had missed me, that I was made only of what was taken. But the truth is, even ashes remember fire. I have learned that cracked teeth can carry prayers, and even flawed DNA can sing with divine defiance. I am not

Some nights the moon feels closer than life’s answers.

Love is true even when people are not. Love waits beyond the noise for those who keep believing. Do you believe me?

The plan unraveled And what’s left, is the quiet thrill of beginning again. So, I return back to start eager to begin again.

This is for the ones who went still. To the ones who turned to quiet when the world grew too sharp to touch and, to the hearts that learned to beat softly, so no one would hear their fear. This is for the bodies that mistook stillness for safety, because sometimes it was. You were not weak, you were wise. You slowed yourself to survive the storm, you hid your light to protect the flame. And though the world called it retreat, I call it endurance. Because even frozen, you were

They told me to shrink, so I became wildfire instead.

If the cards had fallen differently, I might have been soft. Perhaps I would have been a young lady who bloomed without the fire, a girl who laughed more than she cried. If the cards had fallen differently, maybe I would trust the morning to keep its promises. Maybe my mother would have stayed sober long enough to teach me how to love gently. Maybe my father would have shown up and stayed long enough for me to believe I was worth staying for. Maybe my body would not have betr

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