Does It Ever Get Better?
(One question. Two narrators.)
The Heart — speaks in full paragraphs, all feeling, no shortcuts.
The Heckler — cuts in with the side commentary you didn’t ask for but needed.
The Heart:
I’ve asked this question in so many different ways. Sometimes out loud, sometimes in silence. Sometimes with anger. Sometimes with exhaustion.
The Heckler:
Sometimes while unloading the dishwasher. Sometimes mid-laugh — which is the worst timing.
The Heart:
The world felt too heavy for me. Joy never lasted long enough to hold.
The Heckler:
Like someone dimmed the brightness and lost the remote.
The Heart:
You can go a long time pretending you’re okay. You can master the art of seeming fine.
The Heckler:
Functional disaster chic.
The Heart:
There’s a loneliness that doesn’t come from being alone, but from being unseen.
The Heckler:
Like you’ve been left off the group text for reality.
The Heart:
The pain doesn’t leave all at once. It just stops being the only thing you feel.
The Heckler:
Fewer alarms. More green lights.
The Heart:
Some days you laugh without holding back. Some days you cry, but it’s a release, not defeat.
The Heckler:
Some days you skip the car-in-the-driveway delay.
The Heart:
And yes, there are days when it comes back.
The Heckler:
Oh, it will. But you know where the ladder is now.
The Heart:
If you’re whispering, Does it ever get better? and you feel ashamed for needing to ask it again…
The Heckler:
You’re already halfway to the answer. You’re still here to ask.
