I have no title. I can barely focus on the keyboard.

Can you say "identify much?"



She let herself get drunk that night, let Mickey 'take advantage' of her. And wasn't it strange how she thought that? That she thought having sex with her boyfriend was letting him "take advantage"? Wouldn't have happened before she'd met him - the real him, not this random facsimile of him.

And when she was throwing up in the sink, wondering if she'd have the stomach to face the fact she'd blocked the drain with her vomit in the morning- she wondered just what the hell she was doing here?

Her life had been strange enough as it was before randomly falling into the habit of skipping through time with him - her other half, the one who made her whole - and now? He wasn't him. Not anymore, so she got drunk and got laid.

Didn't make a difference.

Didn't make her feel whole.

Part of her acknowledged that Mickey knew that.

She wasn't whole. She didn't know if she ever would be again.

Knew she wouldn't be until she knew he was him again.