Chaos with Cait

Her body is a library that survived the burning. Every breath of hers, is a page still being written.

Some days survival is the only victory a quiet, uncelebrated act of holding on when the world pulls at you hard.

I’ve been told that love is a gamble. I have been taught to keep my cards close, yet somehow still, my ADHD hands want to flip them over. I want to take the chance, I want to feel the rush.

Mornings start in battle, not against the sun, but the body I wake inside. My body bargains with me in whispers and threats. Every movement is taxed, and every breath is a ledger line. I rage at it. I call my body names you cannot say in polite rooms. I curse the cells that chose mutiny over loyalty. I scream at the mirror until the glass fogs from breath, with proof that I am still here. But still, the air, something so basic turns predator when I’m not paying attention. I w

I care too much, about almost everything. This has created immense stress, and problems for me.

The dragon breathes fire, when she so desires.

She was never small. The world simply built rooms that could not hold her hunger for more.