kiera

I can’t just get better.
Trust me—
all of the “get better soon”
are just as relevant
as knowing that, for as long as I live,
soon is never going to come.


I used to see soon as hope,
my reason to keep going.
Because I thought that sometime soon—
even if I couldn’t see it—
I’d be normal.


It’s strange being told “get well soon”
when you know you won’t.
It feels like people saying
they hope you’ll be normal,
like them.


And so do I.


To have a day where I’m not questioned.
To have a day where I feel stable.
To have a day where I don’t have to explain
my existence to someone—
because at the end of the day,
they will get better soon.


All I can do is look around
at those who read between my lines,
who understand what it’s like
not to be normal,
not to be fine,
what it feels like
when soon is never coming.


And I thank them
for just that.