[ WP ] On the same day that scientists discover proof of infinite , parallel universes , you receive a package that is addressed to `` Myself ... Sort of . ''

I remember when I first met her. 
 
 The box was large enough to be a coffin, and wrapped in this gaudy polar bear wrapping paper even though it was July. I could n't help but feel I had seen the paper somewhere before, but shook the feeling quickly. Ever since the news surfaced people have been receiving strange packages from `` themselves.'' Mother received a dead rat that morning. I guess it was just my turn. 
 
 I tore through the wrapping paper to find, lo and behold, a coffin. A little bit dark but if it all went down hill I could always bury it in the garden in the back. Lord knows it was already a pit of death the way I've been treating it. Before I could do anything, the coffin sprang open and out popped me. 
 
 Well, sort of. I was a 28 year old woman of medium build who makes a habit of wearing pastel colors and plaid everywhere and is n't ashamed of a little cat hair. The person who just jumped out of a coffin was a 28 year old woman of medium build who made a habit of wearing pastel colors and plaid everywhere, was n't ashamed of a little cat hair, and was wearing an eyepatch. 
 
 Wearing is n't the right word. I noticed pretty quickly that it was actually a piece of notebook paper that had been colored black with a sharpie and tapped over one eye. I wanted to ask about it but was immediately faced with a question of my own. 
 
 `` Are you ready to lose your virginity?'' Jovially chimed the other me. 
 
 I stood there. This is n't an offer that comes up a lot for me. 
 
 `` Come on, I know just how you like it. I've been looking to get it on with someone myself and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.'' 
 
 `` What happened to your eye?'' It was the only thing I could think to say. 
 
 `` I put an eyepatch over it, duh. Why are we still wearing pants?'' 
 
 `` Nice wrapping paper.'' I was biding for time at this point. 
 
 `` Thanks, I found it under the bed. I can show you where after you lead me up there.'' The sentence ended on a much high note than it started. 
 
 `` No thanks.'' Barely a whisper. 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` I'm not a lesbian.'' 
 
 `` So? Neither am I, it's not gay if you're having sex with yourself.'' 
 
 `` I'm not attracted to you.'' 
 
 `` Oh, it's the eye patch is n't it. Here.'' She tore the eye patch away. Now she looked just like me but with more of a libido. 
 
 `` No, it's not the eye patch.'' 
 
 `` Low self-esteem? I know I've dealt with that in the past-'' 
 
 `` Is there a return to sender or-'' 
 
 `` And I learned to love myself.'' 
 
 `` Am I stuck with this?'' 
 
 `` Pardon?'' 
 
 `` You should leave.'' 
 
 `` Oh.'' 
 
 `` Yeah.'' 
 
 `` I really thought I'd be coming rather than going.'' 
 
 `` Yeah.'' 
 
 `` You know, it's not a crime to love yourself.'' 
 
 `` I'll remember that.'' 
 
 `` I'll keep in touch.'' 
 
 She left the coffin that day. I did n't move it before I saw her again. 
 
 `` Oh, you still have it?'' She said, as enthusiastic as usual. 
 
 `` Yeah.'' 
 
 `` So are we going to have sex or...'' 
 
 `` No. I have some questions that I need to ask you.'' 
 
 `` What kind of questions?'' 
 
 `` It's the sort of thing I do n't really feel comfortable telling other people. I figure you're a good place to start.'' 
 
 `` Well I am you.'' 
 
 `` You dealt with-'' 
 
 `` The crippling loneliness? Yeah, ever since I left college. Why?'' 
 
 `` How?'' 
 
 `` How what?'' 
 
 `` How'd you deal with it?'' 
 
 `` Oh. Drugs, mostly.'' 
 
 `` Did that work?'' 
 
 `` Care to find out?'' 
 
 We spent the rest of that afternoon huffing sharpie. It worked for a while, but at the end of the day I still felt like shit. The other me, who handled the high much better than myself, slept on the couch that night. Before she passed out she said, `` Did it work?'' 
 
 `` Not really.'' 
 
 `` Never did for me either.'' 
 
 `` Why'd you wear that eyepatch the first time you came?'' 
 
 `` I thought you'd like it. Did you?'' 
 
 `` It's the thought that counts.'' 
 
 We went out for breakfast the next day, and she slept over again. It continued like that for a while. Months went by. 
 
 `` Do you ever have to go home?'' 
 
 `` I made sure the neighbor would feed the cat.'' 
 
 `` Good.'' 
 
 `` I think I'll leave once we lose our virginity.'' 
 
 `` I think I'll keep putting that off.'' 
 
 And so on it went. A lot of you guys thought we were twins. A few of you knew. I am happy to see so many smiling faces gathered in out backyard to see her laid to rest with the garden she brought back to life. She may have died a virgin, but she died my best friend.
