Crossed

Chapter 2, Part 4

Now she wanted coffee. Bubbly brown with puffy marshmallows soaking it all up. She pulled into the Starbucks in between her apartment complex and the pharmacy, rolled her window down and ordered a large black coffee. There were marshmallows already in her car's console. They made a plopping sound upon liquid impact.

We must get our failures out of the way in order to truly succeed. The horizon of garbage that is the volume of your past work must be burned, forgotten, banished into the nonexistence of nothingness. Into the vacuum of space. Mutilated and scorched.

Polarities are the ancestors of meta-comparisons. Comparing images and words in a abstract way is the synthesis of the collection of polarities. The collection of polarities is represented by the extracted personification of the two sides. The most generally defining pattern of thought. Changes behavior and dialogue across cultures and time periods.

Order and chaos, intelligence vs idiocy, loving vs hateful, left vs right, man vs woman, laughter vs sadness, anger vs envy, ambition vs sloth, conscientiousness vs openness. Anything you can possibly think of that holds a polar existence can be related to one of these personifications. They are characters in a story, actors in a play, gears in a machine. Meta-comparisons is the absence of the need to polarize thought. It is the conversation between ideas that are abstractly generated, accessing information via worldview/bank of memory, more effectively harnessing thought and no longer being restricted to divisive polarities.

Yea, fuck polarities. She thought.

Danger and Risk. Notice I didn't use "vs." Risk is a more systematic word, having a slight relation to reckless action and gambling. Danger is more of an exclamation. A plastered warning. Cliffside. Slick highways. Prone.

She hugged the smushy marshmallows with her tongue, fumbling them around and softly biting. It felt like jelly fish slimily squeezing through the rough coral reef. An octopus ghost. Lubricated. Like peanut butter and jellies dipped in milk. Dissolving in the saliva like acid dissolving flesh.

One hand at twelve o'clock on the steering wheel and the other holding the thermos that she dumped it all in to keep the temperature. She kept scalding her tongue, frying the nerve endings and taste buds alike. She lathered in the pain and with each swig felt a rush of caffeine enter her bloodstream. One of the most motivating feelings only to be outmatched by the adderall buzz that had begun slightly as well. She had taken the one pill and was going to take the second when she picked them up. The two cool breezes of energy wafting through the cracked windows shivered her sweaty armpits and clammed up her palms as she griped her fingers through her hair stickily. She felt strands clinging to her fingers and as she whipped out onto the main road. She fingered the shedded strings and took a glance down at them while accelerating.

That is disgusting, she thought, I'm literally a dog.

A police officer in a Chevrolet Camaro pulled out behind her. Her foot levelled on the gas at a solid thirty-five miles per hour. Their eyes locked from her top rear view mirror. She looked back toward the road. He turned. She went straight.

The same pothole entering the apartment complex fucked up her tire once again as she cursed spasmodically. The crisp wind dried her pores as the sun soothed her shiver. She swung around the railing of the stairs leading up to her door and leapt the incline in a single swoop. She jingled out her keys and inserted them into the doorknob. Just then she felt sudden stomping start to vibrate the concrete ground beneath her. That was when she saw him for the first time.