Yeah. It's gone. I'm pretty sure.
You know that space between "I'm so fucking plastered." and "Fuck that, I hated her anyway. Give me another." ? That. There's no choice or reasoning there, yes? No 'sir. See what I did there? No you don't. YOU do.
And you never realize when or how you got there. Like a walk with a stranger from a crowded street to a dark alley.
Some things are still lurking around. But so does the stink of shit.
Fucked if it's gone.
And fuck you.