Chaos with Cait

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

I have learned that fear and growth speak in the same voice at first. And only after surviving them did I understand how they choose to follow one another, how they love to coexist with each other two separate messengers, both ready to offer me different things.

Somewhere inside me, a wildflower refuses to die. She keeps blooming in every season wild beautiful And mysteriously.

Love arrived the moment I stopped reaching, and finally started getting comfortable receiving. Only then was I able to anchor.

I don’t know the ending, but the beginning keeps unfolding beneath my feet. And I don’t care if the only applause, comes from me.

The world moves on, but I stay still like a ghost afraid of being seen. Can you see me? Can I even see me?

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.

Little one, you were never given fair odds. The deck was stacked with empty bottles, missing footsteps, and a body that broke before it bloomed. But hear me, you are not the weight of what went wrong, you are the proof that life can grow in impossible soil. Yes, your mother’s absence left a hunger that still lingers. Yes, your father’s silence taught you that you should mirror him. And yes, your body has carried you to battles that you never asked to fight. But still, you kep

Hope is really just fear, that learned how to keep walking. So I started moving and then started dancing. Before I knew it, I was skipping and laughing.

The night keeps secrets for me, tucks them into the folds of the stars and hums lullabies to me. The darkness gathers the frayed edges of my thoughts and smooths them with cool and patient hands. In the hush of the darkness, I can finally breathe deep, and unafraid. The night wraps itself around me like a familiar blanket, soft with understanding, yet heavy with everything I’ve dared not speak. And without question, the darkness listens for me returning each evening as promis

I smile so no one asks, I crack jokes and try to make people laugh but my eyes still ache from holding back the flood.

Somewhere, my younger self is dancing barefoot in the life I built for her.

Love is the light that answers back, when fear finally stops speaking. A quiet glow across the soul that waits beneath the noise of doubt.

The world is vast, yet in a child’s gaze even a pebble becomes a planet.

My mind breaks open, and everything, all of my thoughts rush in at once. I pray I make it to safety in time.

What if we sat down at the same table the weary, the wounded, the wandering and broke open our ribcages like loaves of bread, passing each other warmth instead of war?

Hate does not vanish when spoken, it multiplies like a stone dropped into water rippling out until the whole shore shakes. Hate sharpens hands into weapons, and turns mouths into blades. Hate teaches children to inherit wounds they did not ask to carry. Hate hides in the casual shrug, and in the moments we do not question why cruelty is easier to choose than care. But, hates consequences do not hide. Oh no, the consequences bleed into our streets, they fracture families. Thes

I am learning how to move again, how to breathe without bracing. I am learning how to open my hands again after years of holding nothing but the weight of surviving. The storm has passed, but my body sometimes still listens for thunder.

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.