“Dad, if you can hear this in heaven, please talk to God and tell him to reconsider whatever the hell plan he has for this world/the US. Feel free to enlist Grandma and Grandpap or any other person who may be able to assist you with this. LOVE, CAITLIN.” I actually said this sentence out loud today. Did I mean it? YES. (One time I prayed and asked for a sign from my dad, “God, tell Dad I said hi” and I ABSOLUTELY got a cosmic nudge, heaven is real.) Not sure what will happen

I needed today to be ordinary. Today had a vanilla flavored sort of neurotic tone. That’s what I mean by ordinary for this… indefinite timeframe? Unless something berserk happens in the next 4 hours (it’s currently about 8pm), I am happy to report that it was. Today was just a day of Physical Therapy (I have a week and a half left - have been going since late July after my shoulder injury) followed by a very unremarkable workday. Tomorrow there is backlogged stuff I really ne

Tired, numb, disillusioned, paralyzed. Another day. An event I’m supposed to go to tonight hangs in the air - it will be bright, happy, it will be a lot of things. Here is the bed, I am laying in it. Here are my legs. Unmoving. Covered by a purple blanket. I am still. The room is silent. The air conditioner wheezes. The light is off. Go to it? Stay? Unclear. The weight of the time I’ve wasted freezes me in place. I should care now. Care about something. Do the dishes. Do some

The morning after everything became less extraordinary Came too late. I was just myself again. A woman, not a puzzle Or piece of anything I never wanted to go back to a place where Colors did not radiate And time progressed naturally. Still, I couldn’t keep up this rhythm alone And now at night, nothing dances But at least for a time They all thought I was good.

I’ve been sort of lost in my head today, or my imagination, and it has been just so goddamn unsettling. My imagination isn’t obscene by any means. I just overanalyze. I don’t think it’s “obsessive” as much as just wanting an impossible thing: To find meaning where there may have been none. To know what was never supposed to be known. To think about “what if.” Different choices. Saying more. Saying less. (Maybe it is obsessive? Rumination? I’m hardly stalking Peter Pan though.

Yesterday and today largely consisted of work and physical therapy. But when I actually had Caitlin time, I made the choice to spend it with sex offenders. By “spend time with sex offenders” I actually mean… I watched like 5 hours of To Catch a Predator. Because that’s as close as I want to get to one again. Obviously. Not that I can control that. UNFORTUNATELY. Sometimes I wonder what it says about me that I can sit and just SNORT LAUGH indefinitely at what are very likely t

I am laying in my bed on my side. My dark hair is splayed out across my black and white pillow. It is the most ordinary pillow you have ever seen. To see me now, there is nothing special, you would flip this channel. The workday is over. The workday was ordinary. I will forget it before long, and that part of me will now rest. My cat Mally is laying across from me in bed. I place one hand on her. My closet door is open but otherwise invisible now, the clothes I was going to p

I can see when I get views on my blog. I genuinely have no way of knowing who reads this. Occasionally people reach out. That’s how I know. If you do read this, I would hope it makes you feel less alone in some way. If this blog has an objective, it is to show a real woman’s mind. It’s not more or less than that. I have some level of talent but a lot of my life is dull, unimpressive, just hitting the snooze alarm and staring at a wall. Everything you have read here is true, o

This week has been ordinary. I’ve been really tired. I worked from home today, crawled into bed, and slept for like 30 minutes immediately afterwards. I have felt sort of lost in my sleep the past couple of nights. There’s a part of me that knows I can’t oversleep when I take naps so I dream about anticipating the alarm and about small things from moments slightly prior to drifting off (for example, the set of DVDs next to me) that seem just realistic and mundane enough to bl

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