I find myself now despising my heart, and wishing I could shut it off, turn it into something dumb or numb, something silent and simple but not predatory. I don’t want to go into detail why. It just hurts to love and care sometimes, disproportionately so, about people, about…. Maybe fucking everything sometimes, or about just making what I can better, and to feel alone in it, or to feel among the minority. Tonight I am also confused. Reflecting upon ambiguous moments (sometim

“I have loved, really loved, a few people, and it always seemed to be something tragic or otherwise neurotic. But despite it all, I have grown. In my growth I learned some important things. One of them is that I pick you. Not that I need you, but that even without the need I can make a choice - and the choice is you. When I am with you I feel happy. I guess that sentence says it all, says everything I meant to say in the first place.”

I am sitting up in a bed that is not mine and staring at a smooth white ceiling. The doctor has just departed my hospital room. In the blank space that is left I have been envisioning home and an empty glass bottle etched with lilacs and the word “Bohemian” which lives in my top dresser drawer. It once contained perfume I purchased when I was 20 and vacationing in New York. When I gave it a little trial spritz, the air was exchanged for something secret and magical. It str

It has been a hapless, hopeless Saturday afternoon of me discovering the “Unsent Letters” section of Reddit and scouring them, perhaps as any curious reader would do, and think “Jesus, this says “Dear C.” - someone write this about me?” And then some mundane detail like “that time we were at the car wash” splashes out and alas, no such memory like this exists. and I feel a little less special, a little less remembered, at least in the world of lonely redditors. Sniffle. First

She pulled me aside in her parent’s kitchen. Red blender, red pots, red pans. Salt shaker shaped like a cow. She lifted her leg to reveal a constellation of tiny black stars tattooed on her ankle. The stars were her brand. “My parents will kill me if they find out.” I grinned and replied - “Who am I to tell?” (I used to think she was smart, carrying the stars everywhere she went, and anyone could see she was a constellation if they just looked down.) And this is what I have

See, I play life as a clever girl would. Idle yet astute. When I can bear to be sweet, I give as much as I can stand. So please enjoy my little gifts as I offer them. I am not transactional. My freedom comes from expecting nothing. My spirit never has to be untangled. Only the clever girls know this; the old tired game never starts if we don’t play. Expectations. Dreams. Hope. We’re too smart for the sticky sweet trifecta; none of it is pure. Now let it be dead and done with,

“I can’t get a good read on Caitlin.” - My Kindergarten teacher “I can’t figure you out.” - Professor I hated “I find you fascinating.” - Teacher who found me fascinating “I love talking to you because I can’t figure you out.” - Annoying boy I knew in my 20s that I didn’t love talking to, no offense intended These are just the remarks I remember off the top of my head. I don’t know how I feel about this. I find the kindergarten teacher’s remark alarming. You know what I remem

Having popcorn for dinner (fourth of July indulgence? Too lazy to cook? Leaning into my own quirkiness? All of the above, babe.) Going over to my best friend’s place later to do whatever the hell tickles our fancy. We’ll probably just be weird. She gets me. I’ll make weird faces at her cats. Make up songs to sing to them. That sort of thing. I had my third alcoholic beverage of 2026 this week. To help me sleep. It ended my bout of insomnia. Hmmm. The guardian angel that was a

He said: “Come see me sometime.” If I had decided to answer, I would have said, “What I am has passed you.” He should have figured out by now that there is a space between us that will never close. It will always be air. I wonder if it will always be this way. I can’t know now. I don’t want to. I don’t feel like a victim or survivor most of the time (I may be a chaotic mix of both.) && I detest being in a world filled with twinkling narratives, forgiven exaggerations,

Tonight has been another night of sinking into what I know (intellectually) must be a lie -which is that there is nothing meaningful left for me in this life. Flashes of light, brief lifts, nothing that sticks to my bones. I can’t seem to override the lie or untangle why I feel this way. I am sitting in an inexplicable emptiness, and am full of an accompanying unsettling stillness. Life will change soon. I am having a hard time accepting it. I have tried to plant myself in tr

There I was, in a casual dining setting several days ago. We were all eating, our food was mostly finished. Conversation had tapered down. I searched for a casual table safe topic that wasn’t sports or cars or books (I’m not capable of coherent commentary for the first two, and I want to be seen as at least a little diverse so I stayed away from literature.) I gestured towards the woman next to me. I suddenly noticed my elbows on table (whoops, sorry Grandma, I know that’s b

Working from home/being in a hybrid role the past week has been glorious. Optimal, actually. I’ve gone into the office twice for the sake of…. well, I’m a socially delightful caterpillar. I don’t feel evolved enough to call myself a butterfly, honestly. Whoops. Yesterday was my second day in office this week. I got out of my car at the same time as a woman younger than me who had parked nearby. As we headed to the elevators she said she liked my dress, that she worked at the

1. Kindness and respect are always the best options… but boundaries are always 100% necessary for peace and safety 2. Your gut is always correct. Don’t let your thoughts/hopes/fears muddy them. 3. You will always be a work in progress. None of us will ever be finished until we are dead… so keep learning. There will always be times when you are wrong. Accept them. Some of my writing has sucked or has weak spots I didn’t see. Some of it was awesome. None of it will ever be pure

Started my new role on Thursday. As white people say, “It started it off with a bang.” Like whatever sets off a race. I didn’t have to dodge any shots fired at me. Just to clarify. It’s a lot, but it’s nothing I can’t handle in time. Nothing that will force me to try to rewire my brain circuitry into being radically left brained (because let’s be real) (as even more white people say). I also got a new ear piercing Wednesday. During work hours (lunch.) Third time I’ve done th

Today is Monday. It’s a beautiful day to be delusional and free and a little sad. Being hopeful in a delusional way is my second favorite coping skill. Now on to work. Here we go… I’m in a strange, tingly, sparkly phase of transition. I start a new role at my company this week. Should be a positive thing, but naturally I’m a bit nervous. I’d be an a naive asshole if I wasn’t. So… let’s lay this out: I’m smart, capable, hardworking, and a good writer. Which is why I’m getting

There’s nothing more extraordinarily boring to me than a love I’m not really in - one has to dress it up in words to make it meaningful to others. Make the argument. Make it believable. Ensure there is some kind of wordplay that makes it sound universal or profound. Yet I’ve found real love can almost never be pinned down in words for what it was. I’m not convinced it’s possible to know… Maybe I’m crazy, but I think we knew. Everyone who spent time around us knew. Still, I d

My nails are painted blue and the polish is chipping. Hopelessly and recklessly chipping. I always leave nail polish on too long, let the colors die a pathetic death. I don’t know other girls who do this as much. I don’t know why I’m like this. Sometimes I think I should care more about why I don’t care. Other times I think that while this is a valid sentiment, I shouldn’t apply it to nail polish so much. Now, my hair is bright auburn. Box dye. My natural color is medium bro

I woke up in the middle of the night Saturday. It was one of those sharp, cold wake ups where I knew an immediate attempt to fall back asleep would be hilariously futile. I wandered onto YouTube. I was immediately met with videos about the devil and spiritual warfare (not pro devil, I assure you). Naturally, I watched a few. I actually tend to believe that’s real phenomenon. Spiritual warfare. Satan. Ugh. This accidentally ended up being good preparation for Ready or Not 2, w