"I feel good about myself."
He said the words out loud. So he could hear them. So he could see how they made him feel.
He had never said those words before; never even thought them.
They rolled off his tongue self-consciously but felt holy when he heard them. And natural. Which is odd because it took a long time - an awful long time, to get here.
He had beat himself up for so long and so viciously that his insides were black and blue. "You end up like a dog that's been beat too much, 'til you spend half your life just covering up." Springsteen is a genius of human nature.
Beatings come from without, beatings come from within. His were internally administered.
But a dog that's been beaten and is suddenly offered love, is tentative. He knows how it goes - he doesn't trust the love, he's ready to cower. Self-preservation, baby.
It wasn't like that for him. He was ready. Ready to feel good. To step inside himself fully and present an honest face to the world.
Feel good is medicine. Feel good is a weapon with which a person can do honest battle against what life dishes out.
There were missteps. Moments when he felt compelled to express and define his happiness. It doesn't work that way. Happiness just has to be.
He was learning.
It would not take long.
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