I remember struggling with my collarbone lump for quite some time after my car accident. I would lift my left hand and gently cup its palm over the knot. Not once, not twice, but three or four times a day. I hated it. I hated it for ruining the way my gold necklace would gracefully fall against my once dainty neckline. I hated it for interrupting my conversations with uncomfortable downward glances. And although I never confidently rocked a strapless top or dress, I hated it for robbing me of that too.