Numb.

That’s how I’ve felt since it all ended. I’m not sure where my feet are. I only have a loose grasp of where my hands are occupying. I’m sure you get it.

Maybe it’s fitting. Maybe this is how it had to be. To rip the hearts out of your most loathed rival they way they’ve been doing in various fashions for so long I think I just want to hurl and cry at the same time. And I can’t afford to lose that many liquids out of my face. Maybe that’s the ultimate justice.

Does it erase all the scar tissue? No, of course not. Is it pretty fucking sweet that the end of the Hawks-Wings Western Conference rivalry will forever be known on Brent Fucking Seabrook mind-shifting one home? Yeah. Yeah it is. There’s no other way to say it.