SatinSoul
all i know is i forgot how to be me.
- Feb 6, 2026
- 14
they tell you the chaos theory is beautiful. it is the idea that a single butterfly flapping its wings in a distant forest can eventually create a hurricane on the other side of the world. but they don't tell you what it's like to be the person standing where that hurricane lands, over and over and over again.
i have spent my entire existence watching the horizon. i see the clouds gathering, i feel the pressure drop in my chest, and i run. i move to a new town, a new field, a new quiet corner where the air feels still. i tell myself that this time the butterflies will be silent. i unpack my life into the drawers and i start to believe that i am finally safe from the wind.
but there are too many butterflies in this world.
somewhere, a thousand miles away, something tiny and insignificant happens. a word is spoken, a breath is taken, or a heartbeat is skipped. the chain reaction begins. the math doesn't care that i just finished rebuilding. it doesn't care that the splinters in my hands from the last house haven't even healed yet. the storm finds me. it always finds me. it rips the roof off before the paint is even dry, and i'm left standing in the rain, holding the ruins of a life that was never allowed to take root.
i am a professional at starting over. i am a master of the clean slate. but every time i pick up the hammer to start again, the handle feels heavier. the wood feels more brittle. the scream in my throat is getting louder, but it's a silent one. it is the kind that makes your lungs feel like they're full of seawater.
when do i get to stop? when is the debt to the chaos finally paid?
i am so incredibly tired of being the person who survives the storm. i don't want to be strong anymore. i don't want to be resilient. i am tired of looking for a new town that doesn't exist. i want to stop running. i want to look at the horizon and see the black clouds coming and just stay. i want to let the wind take what's left of me. i want to stop avoiding the fate that keeps chasing me across every border i cross.
if i stop rebuilding, maybe the butterflies will finally go quiet. if i let the storm have its way, maybe i can finally find the rest that the quiet towns never gave me.
oh my love, can i finally put the hammer down?
oh my love, can i finally admit it?
my love, i am so excruciatingly tired!
i have spent my entire existence watching the horizon. i see the clouds gathering, i feel the pressure drop in my chest, and i run. i move to a new town, a new field, a new quiet corner where the air feels still. i tell myself that this time the butterflies will be silent. i unpack my life into the drawers and i start to believe that i am finally safe from the wind.
but there are too many butterflies in this world.
somewhere, a thousand miles away, something tiny and insignificant happens. a word is spoken, a breath is taken, or a heartbeat is skipped. the chain reaction begins. the math doesn't care that i just finished rebuilding. it doesn't care that the splinters in my hands from the last house haven't even healed yet. the storm finds me. it always finds me. it rips the roof off before the paint is even dry, and i'm left standing in the rain, holding the ruins of a life that was never allowed to take root.
i am a professional at starting over. i am a master of the clean slate. but every time i pick up the hammer to start again, the handle feels heavier. the wood feels more brittle. the scream in my throat is getting louder, but it's a silent one. it is the kind that makes your lungs feel like they're full of seawater.
when do i get to stop? when is the debt to the chaos finally paid?
i am so incredibly tired of being the person who survives the storm. i don't want to be strong anymore. i don't want to be resilient. i am tired of looking for a new town that doesn't exist. i want to stop running. i want to look at the horizon and see the black clouds coming and just stay. i want to let the wind take what's left of me. i want to stop avoiding the fate that keeps chasing me across every border i cross.
if i stop rebuilding, maybe the butterflies will finally go quiet. if i let the storm have its way, maybe i can finally find the rest that the quiet towns never gave me.
oh my love, can i finally put the hammer down?
oh my love, can i finally admit it?
my love, i am so excruciatingly tired!