Chaos with Cait

She wandered through days that felt borrowed, her footsteps echoing in the wrong direction. The mirrors showed her a stranger, eyes...

I want to stay. God, I really want to stay, but something in me trembles at the thought of forever, like it’s a door that might close too...

Breathing is my quiet rebellion, my softest survival song.

Curiosity opens doors that logic never finds. Logic draws the map, but wonder steps off the path. Curiosity is the doorknob to adventure.

I failed, and then I failed again, but each time, my spine grew straighter.

I used to run from softness. I didn’t trust it, I didn’t know how to hold what didn’t hurt. But this time, I stay. Not because the fear...

fall, hard, and heavy. Bones rattling, lungs empty. Lie there, listen to the dust settle, hear the silence that tries to name you...

I bent. I broke. I bled quiet. Called it kindness. Called it love. Called it mine. But, no is a door. A shield. A spine. No is not cruel,...

The waiting room buzzes, fluorescent and cold, a place where suffering is barcoded, where every cough is a dollar sign, where a pulse is...

She was not easy to know, but once you did, you never forgot how she made silence feel holy.

At first, I waited for the catch, for the crack beneath your calm. I’ve known love with conditions spelled in silence, and bruises shaped...

Wonder came back softly, not loud like lightning, but like light through leaves. I looked up and for once I didn’t brace for the fall. I...

Your ribs are a cathedral where galaxies sing.

She bled quietly, then bloomed louder than the wound.

My mind keeps a courtroom. Evidence stacked high, each mistake marked with neat handwriting and cold ink. My heart is no lawyer, it...

There is a silence that comes after losing, not the soft kind, but the kind that presses your chest into the floorboards, the kind that...

I stand at the edge of everything I've ever wanted, and hesitate.

I do not know what waits around the bend. My bones tremble with every almost. What if I lose? What if I bloom? I pack my fear in silence,...

Hope, is a hand reaching toward the light, without proof that it will find the sun.

The cracks in me used to feel like weakness, now they’re stained glass, and the light dances through.