Chaos with Cait

There is something restless in the way you become not once, but time and time again. There is magic in the way that you grow, like roots reaching out to ground themselves before the seasons bloom. You are the beautiful blossom in a world filled with cold. You do not just grow, you insist on it.

Not every flower announces itself. Some bloom just to breathe.

My thoughts are wild rivers. I let them flood, I let them carve new earth.

Women should be able to walk outside after dark without fear that a stranger’s presence will turn freedom into vigilance. Teenage girls should be able to walk down the street, uninterrupted. Without car horns, without catcalls, without being taught that their bodies are public property. Young girls should be able to exist innocently; to grow, to play, to trust, without being groomed, without being preyed upon. We should not have to learn to survive before we learn how to liv

I stopped waiting to become who I was before. Instead, I introduced myself to the woman who survived. I held her hand and, promised her that she was one hundred percent worth the fight.

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

I want to taste the world, I want to drink sunlight until I am drunk on being alive.