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.