Fight The Dawn
An Abstract Legacy

Archive: Sep 2018

Truth

Dear Friend

by
Comments Off on Dear Friend

I wish I could write you a happy update to this path I tread. I wish I could tell  you a story that would plant a smile on your face. I wish I could recollect a memory that we can revel in nostalgia. I wish that this decade past would have something to show, something to hold onto.

I really wish that I would have left you without worry. People still worry about me today, and maybe they should. I feel lost my friend. I feel…tired and restless, angry and dgaf. I feel like I just want to fight everything and everyone. More than anything I feel like starting over.

Maybe if I start anew I can fool them all over…just for a time. Find a little bit of solace in this eclectic existence. Not all who wander are lost, and some truly wish not to be found. It hurts…getting close. It hurts reliving these memories over and over again…they just won’t leave. She haunts my mind of late. Why? I don’t know. I also look into the eyes of a new one and…well, that’s a story best left to never be written. I wish I could forget. I wish I could turn off my mind.

I wish a lot of things. I wish you were here. I wish I could have traded places.

Love Always,
Your Friend

P.S. I still remember.

Acting

I Am A Fighter

by
Comments Off on I Am A Fighter

I’m scared of all that I don’t know.

Circles — EDEN

There has been a lot of fight in me these past six months. Dealing with my perceived failed audition to RADA and expectation of rejection and unworthiness. Struggling through a failing production which never found its heart; in turn leading to asking those questions of ourselves we shouldn’t be asking. The exuberance of getting into London and the immense frustration that came with studying there. The feelings of inadequacy, being lost, loneliness, anger, disprized love, hopelessness, pride, guilt, and shame, to name a few.

Followed up by a relatively successful production mixed with hubris, false smiles, and empty congratulations. Into a scene that is very personal to me and struggling in wanting to let that be seen; hiding it away in the dark recesses of my soul. My usual bouts with depression, and to top it off a last minute short film which left me only asking one extremely unspecific question, why?

We are told there is a divine dissatisfaction that is healthy to our art and craft. Something that keeps us humble and pushing forward in growth as an artist, but I have found the extreme side of that pendulum. Or rather I have run astray of ‘divine’ dissatisfaction and given way to self-loathing dissatisfaction. A crippling sense of unworthiness that demotivates and shrinks down.

I’m scared, but I know it’s not for long, because I’m learning what I’ve shoulda known before.

Circles — EDEN

I made a promise long ago and discovered a realization I can never let go. The darkness that surrounds me is thick and suffocating but the spark of life that is within shines brighter than any fog that sweeps through. I fight myself at every turn to keep that shining star dull and distant, not confident in its ability to stand and shine on its own. I fight my identity and truths that lay waiting within, content to live a lie that doesn’t allow me to rise so that I do not have to suffer another fall. We were never created to shrink away from who we are or to burn out slowly.

I never wanted to feel again because all I knew was this pernicious pain that permeated my core, and if I could somehow dull myself then I could somehow make it through this languish life. I created a lie of safety, but the existence of that lie could not live in harmony with the truth of who I am. I am alive. I want to feel. I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to fall. I want to rise. I want to live!

I cannot live without my pain and suffering but I also live with joy and laughter. I have broken through another wall, burned off the overcast of fog that had descended upon this shining star, and now I get to see and experience new sights and sounds. I get to take a step forward in life and live. I take that step eagerly and with vitality, for I know too that this fog will come again. It will descend and try to darken and dwindle this living light within but it will never win. With each battle I grow stronger; I come more alive. I am a light unto the darkness and am called to share that light with others.

Ramblings

Nocturne No.15

by
Comments Off on Nocturne No.15

Deep in the recess of the mind we find what we hide. Full of richness of thought and delving into the darkest parts we hold inside. This little reservoir of truth that leads to the opening of the armoire of proof that we are but shadows of what we can be. And some of us are fortunate enough to find ways to break free—of these chains that burgeon and bind us with no key. But too often the story left untold is that of who’s soul is left to rot in winter’s cold.

— Sir Winston Lear

If I could share the sweet melody that swirls in the mist of thought that fills this unholy void you might be moved. You might even feel so much as to be inspired or if you are very lucky, shed a tear.  You might reminisce on a past version of yourself, connecting in thought and time to a specific place or feeling. You might smile from such nostalgia or shrink from the lingering fear. You might find yourself transported for a brief moment of time to a distant world rife with imagination, and dreams, and desires.

You might even go so far as to believe this fantasy I’ve created for you, but in the end that’s all it is, a lie. A lie I’ve created that is so deeply rooted in my cerebrum that to remove it, or change it, would mean the death of all that is me. I can fight the lie, or give into the lie, but I cannot kill the lie. There is no truth in these pale cold words because there is no truth inside. This hollow heart lies captured in a cage of a barren being. The tune you hear is faint and fleeting; the lingering lie of this cacophonous cry.

Ramblings, Truth

Memories Of You

by
Comments Off on Memories Of You

I hear the rain falling down in the background, the air filled with the faint smell of the freshly burdened ground, suffocating my nostrils as they desperately try to ease the growing anxiety within. My visage presents an outward lie to the world of cool demeanor while the memory of you boils up from below. You always knew how best to get to me and every time it rains I cannot help but think of you.

I’ve shrouded you in the black cloth of the pain that struck me most. Not a fair or fitting facade to fix your memory in, but I swore to one already that I would never forget and I cannot bring myself to wrestle with two haunting memories of a time I’d rather repose to ruins. Yet, I can never forget you. You stalk the maze of my mind, a gallant ghost, haunting these horrid halls; a reminder of what can never be forgotten, promise or not.

I was broken, and thus you were shattered. I couldn’t face myself and so ran from you. A melancholy morning in which not just two lives but two loves were lost. You suffered the cost of collateral damage from a coward you couldn’t console. Now as I look out into the rain it’s the reflection of your face I see. I try to speak but my voice fails me. Surrendering to the knowledge that you are better off without me and happier as just a distant memory.

Acting, Truth

The Method AntiHero

by
Comments Off on The Method AntiHero

In the beginning, when I first started acting, I had an idea of what was inside of me. I knew the person I was and the actor I could become. Over the passing three years I have muddled, disparaged, and forgotten that truth. Taking it and hiding it deep inside of me. Piling on false: aspirations, accolades, validations, ideas of greatness, and illusions of grandeur.

I created a persona who thought he could rise to the top; an actor who thought he could actually make it in this business. I convinced myself that I was some torch bearer for the school I represented. That I was a hope and beacon of light for those that would come after, paving a way for their future, a stone on the shoulder of giants for them to step on. I was convinced that I was a prodigy and protégé of those that had come before me; the next step in the future of our craft and art.

Oh the lies we tell ourselves are the worst lies. At the same time they are the most hilarious and I have had a good laugh in watching all those lies reveal themselves. I have not opened myself to deeper truths inside but constructed an intricate veil to hide behind. The veneer of the hero.

But I am no hero. I am no saint. I am no torchbearer, no protégé, no prodigy, no genius. I am the lingering festering nightmare that creeps out at twilight’s dawn. The rebellious and tarnished actor that has no hopes or expectations. The mangy underdog kicked to the side and forgotten. I created a spotlight for myself when it’s in the shadows where I thrive.

So eat to your heart’s content you aryan bastards bathing in the light of these false suns. Take a stroll down your red carpet of bloody tears into the golden room. Keep to your closed minded ideas and bitter resentment to the dawning empire that never saw the night. Take control you wretched false hearted statues of these hollow accolades—which are filled as much as you are inside. Let the respective worlds you toil in recognize you all.

For I will toil in my darkness, eating the scraps I can steal away from your gluttonous exhibitions. Content to wander these dark hallways. I am done feigning the greatness that others impose on me. Everyone has an idea of who I am and I am bone tired of trying to realize their false identity. I know who I am, always have, and I don’t give a shit if you agree with it.