"Good morning, grumpy-pants. Haven't seen you in a while! What's the occasion?"

Pinkamena miserably looked up to stare at herself in the mirror. The real version of herself, not the monotone copy of her on the real side of the mirror.

She had been lightly surprised to find herself in control when she woke up, and that naturally meant the real Pinkie would be finding some ways to express herself without the use of a physical form; in most cases, it was pseudo-hallucinations that made Pinkamena question her already questionable mental health.

"Same as always. It's only ever one reason. Maybe you're up late last night thinking about futility, or you felt like you've disappointed a friend. Whatever it is that day, it's the only reason I ever come out of my birdcage."

"Aw, don't be like that. Admittance is the first step to recovery. So, let's play 'Whaaaaat's Eatiiiiing Pinkie Pie!!'"

She pantomimed a trumpet, and leaned against her side of the glass. Pinkamena sighed, and Pinkie seemed to calm down, sitting up straight and politely waiting for her to explain. She gathered her thoughts together and picked up a comb, wondering if she could restore the natural pompf of her hair. She knew it was fruitless; her hair seemed to have a mind of it's own. Just another mystery of herself.

"It's a lot of things. Mostly me."

"Sing out, sister."

"I mean me-me. Pinkamena. I don't know what I am."

"Don't be silly. You're me!"

"No, I'm not you. I don't know if I'm a split personality, or a hallucination, or a mental disorder that'll disappear after you take those pills Redheart gave you; but I'm not Pinkie, and I don't know which side of the mirror I'm on."

She looked up again, and saw Pinkie smiling and listening attentively. After a moment of silence, she leaned in and took Pinkamena's hoof. She didn't question how this happened; it was just nice to be able to touch her.

"That day, when you saw the Rainboom, I saw the happiest filly I've ever seen, and it almost made me break down, because that was me, and I could never be that filly again. After that, I just... Became this. A disorder. A problem that scared your friends and only existed at the worst times."

"Is that what you think of yourself? Just a sad shadow of me?"

"What else am I?"

She leaned in more, and touched her forehead to Pinkamena's softly.

"You're me. You're us. There doesn't have to be a 'Real' me or a 'Fake' me, and we don't have to be two halves of the same coin. I can be bummed out without you taking over, and I know with all of my heart that you can be happy."

She guided Pinkamena's hoof to the drawer, and gently opened it. A bottle of pills was inside. She stared down at it as Pinkie smiled.

"I want to fix you. I want to fix us. And we can recover! We can be Pinkie."

She picked up the bottle, and poured a couple of pills into her hoof, gently shaking them around as she looked up at the mirror expectantly. That happy filly smiled back, and the room warmed up. And she popped them into her mouth.

Author's Notes:

The picture that prompted it