“I was bruised and battered, I couldn’t tell what I felt.
I was unrecognizable to myself.
I saw my reflection in a window, I didn’t know my own face.”
This lyric from Bruce Springsteen is another in a long string of song lyrics that punch me in the face when I hear them. I’m mostly grateful when I hear songs like Streets of Philadelphia because if I’m feeling it means I’m not dead. Obviously I don’t completely wish I was dead. I don’t want to miss out on seeing my nieces and nephews grow up. I don’t want to cause that much pain to my loved ones. But gosh I wish my entire being was numb.