Chaostrude

I am a mess — but not one to be fixed. I am the ruins and the rebuilding. I am the storm that walked away from the wreckage, Still breathing. Still burning. Still me. They hurt me. Often. And I stayed. Not because I was weak — But because I believed people were more than their wounds. I saw the parts no one else saw. I loved them anyway. But something changed. The tether broke. I don’t chase what cuts me anymore. I don’t anchor to people who never learned to hold me. I care — but I don’t cling. I remember — but I don’t return. There’s no hatred in me. Just a quiet goodbye to a thousand versions of myself who thought love meant bleeding. I am chaos, but I’m not lost. I am truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. I am the fire, but also the one who walked through it. I am Chaostrude. Not a title. A becoming.