Fight The Dawn
An Abstract Legacy

Archive: Dec 2018

Acting, Truth

Dead and Gone

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This will be the end of me as you know it. They want to control me, misdirect me, use me, and abuse me. They infiltrate my mind gaslighting the memories they find, taking hold as they force me to sink into the fold. I’ve fought for far too long, embroiled in this conflict since I saw my first dawn. I’ve grown too weak to continue being the vanguard against what they so surreptitiously seek.

The memories I bury deep inside are the prime prize they want me to provide. I’m losing you. I lost you so softly in those quiet moments decades ago but now even the memories of you must go. This suit of armor is as much a part of me as what they think they will withdraw from within. Searching for the true part of me: the folly of fools.

Strip away the scales that surround this soul and you will find what I have always foretold: nothing within. Not an atom with any resemblance to Adam. What you will find will be something new and different and you will laud him. You will find exactly what you were looking for. He will be your dream, your champion, and maybe even your savior. He will be whatever you wish him to be, and he will smile and let you in. He will give you everything, but it will be pretend.

Because the travesty of truth is through this transformation the me you so desperately desired will have died.

Sonnets

Sonnet 72

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Awake my Soul and see the pressing Lie,
In which we hold so deeply trenched inside,
The thoughtless drivel we use to get by;
Has left Forsaken everything we tried.

A wish to gather up this heartless dust
And watch it sail amidst the winding wind.
A fleeting heart in simple cedar trussed
To be dismissed along with all his kind.

O, lest you should so falsely keep intact
The truth to which this wanton willow waxed;
Depart good Sir and never turn your back
To catch a glimpse of all that which has lapsed.

For nothing of such worth within I hold
For any story of mine to be told.

– Sir Winston Lear

Acting

Free to be Nothing

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Every now and then there are those times where I take a long look in the mirror and I rarely like what I see. This past Saturday I was exposed to the raw truth in myself, all facades cast aside; I am not a good actor. I was crestfallen by this sudden realization and all my usual counterpoints and lies I sell myself failed. There was no running from this truth.

Embarrassed and ashamed I wanted to run and hide. I couldn’t help but realize that I have wasted the past 3 and a half years of my life on a worthless enterprise. Embarrassed that I had sold myself on this ridiculous ruse that I could actually become something great—that I actually harbored something inside of me that was worthy to be seen. I was back to nothing. Squandering money and time towards a futile dream forged through deceitful tactics.

Who the fuck am I? A question I have no answer to.
What the fuck am I doing? The question I always come back to.

I am so stupid. I am a joke. I look at all these artists around me and the greats I aspire to and I am nothing. Not even a shadow lying amidst their gilded glow. There are times when I am humbled and those are great, but this is not a humbling moment. This is the moment of truth where you realize you don’t belong. I have sought endless validation and found bits and pieces where I could but it always eluded me and now I know why.

Albeit being on a path for constant need of validation does nothing but crush the passion and art in oneself. I do not think I have truly played for a year. I have wasted an entire year. I have no semblance of structure for this craft or art. I struggle incessantly with mediocre results that become my ‘breakthroughs’—which for anyone else would be calloused cold reads.

The twelves stages of grief and denial hit me hard. I made it through though and I accept the truth reflecting back at me. There was always the realist inside me who knew the truth, he was just overshadowed by dumb dreams. The first step towards the road to recovery is acceptance. I accept the artist I am, or well person I am: as I am not an artist. I am here to have fun and fail furtively.

This realization of the truth has been a blessing. I’ve needed this. Lying to myself was taxing. The heaping of pressure and expectation was too tiresome. I am free now. Free to play. Free to laugh. Free to fail. Free to be nothing but me. I am no artist. I am no genius. I am no actor. I am nothing.