Chaos with Cait

My tears watered the ground, and something in me began to grow.

I can’t chase friendships any longer. My feet are broken, my legs too tired to keep running after people who never noticed I was limping. Most days I spend all my strength trying not to die, trying to make it to tomorrow without becoming another thing I’ve lost If I loved you, I will always love you. Distance doesn’t erase affection. Silence doesn’t mean resentment. It only means that survival has become my full time occupation. So if I stopped reaching, it wasn’t because you

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.

I cried myself to sleep, four times this week. But tomorrow will be better, right?

I have been working on healing, my very angry and judgmental heart.

For years, my words have felt like darkness. I have been drowning daily, in my own thoughts. Every poem, every word I have shared, has carried since type of sorrow. I have wrestled with my own mind just to be able to gather a clear thought long enough to put it on a page. I have written about grief and hurt, pain and loss. I have shared my deepest fears, and the worries that keep my eyelids peeled open at night. I have struggled with feeling swallowed whole by the voids that