Glued to her phone, watching a violent uprising unfold in Iran, S gets hit by a car while crossing the street in Brooklyn. She may have a concussion but the driver is cute. Darkly funny, and deeply relatable, i'm not even half takes us on an odyssey of pick-me antics and self-discovery, where physical impact interrupts psychic patterns, forcing S to confront: what is worthy of faith and what is worthy of being gut-punched to hell.
