Also, a Monologue I typed up for a class. It's my version of what goes through a criminals mind when they're running from the cops.
The lights are dancing in my mind, and in the mirrors, signaling other entities opposed to my passing. I breathe in. That's power I smell, the power currently flowing through my veins, giving me the authority to oppose these cockroaches. They don't understand I'm answering to a being they can't comprehend, one that is wild and unpredictable, conflicted and unstable but undoubtably powerful. This is good coke, and it clears my senses, makes me feel free. I roughly turn the wheel, hitting a sidestreet I have determined is the least likely to be guarded by the opposers of free will. Amorality is what they call it, I call it making a choice, and being allowed to make that choice, not waiting for others to tell you what you can or cannot do, not waiting for your mind to catch up. It's all in the action, the action that breaches the walls of normality and monotany. I was right about the side street being unblocked. It is not lucky, it is part of who I am to realize when there is not luck responsible, but my own mind. A single tear rolls down my cheek as the song playing from the speakers hits a crescendo, the violin cries a wonderful melancholy experience that combines with the pictures in the mirror to form a beautiful moment, the only kind of moment worth living for. I feel the power of the car's engine reverberating through the fiber of my being and for a second I feel as though it is a part of me, but I am wrong. The turn I meant to make perfectly as a combined vessel of magnificence is cut short by one of many possible hindrances, the sight of a young boy. I realize then that it is not myself and the car that are one, but me and the child, and his eyes tell the tale of our moment of connection. As I am dragged inevitably out of the smoldering heap of hubris I leave behind, I realize the nature of an unpredictable power is that it does not always fall in your favour.