You will miss
me tomorrow. You will plead
and cajole and promise you'll listen to me next time.
Yes, yes, I've heard it all before. 'Oh please Mr. Rational
Thoughts, please take over. PLEASE
take over, I promise I'll be a good little girl and do everything you
say.' You'll promise you'll
never do it again. You
promise next time will be different.
You make thousands of promises.
And I'll sigh and shake my head.
But I'll come back. I
always come back. And
someday, when you're older, you will appreciate me for what I am and for
what I could have done if only you had listened to me.
When you are much much older.
And you'll fall for some flighty young thing that reminds you of
you at that age, and the whole cycle starts over again.
Quite frankly, you're fucked.
Go for it."
I realize I've
been staring at this beer bottle and imagining it's talking to me in a
British accent for ten minutes now.
I'm such a dumbass.