The "new you" kept telling the "old you" that there was no place for him in the psyche any more. He deserved to expire because of his inherent uselessness. He was just a mass of destructive, chaotic proclivities. But the "old you" was patient, and had weathered a host of "improvements" since the self's foggy, soggy foundation. This was far from the first "new you" that had staked a claim to running the ship. Like his many predecessors, he would prove as ephemeral as a pleasant summer breeze. The "old you"'s teeth were already grinding again,
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