The Award: Best Actor (Part 2 of 3)

You still haven’t said my name.
I didn’t think you would.

I wasn’t supposed to win, man. I was supposed to make somebody else look good.

I was here to play either the villain, the psychopath, the rebel, the tragic, or… something for them to clap at.
I guess anything that you expect to disrupt the status quo.
Something exciting.

But here I am holding this trophy.
The exact same person, smiling back through your reflection.

You thought I’d thank you.
Or that I’d dress you down.

Ugh. Such a lazy perspective from you of all… concepts.

I think you keep checking in with me because you’re worried.
Worried I no longer care about how far I drift without your story.

That makes sense.
But I was confused by your speech.

Sure, I may flirt with the unknowable and ponder the unthinkable.
I know you’re the world-renowned director that aims to mentor me.
I know I’m the diamond-in-the-rough that neglects your instruction.

But I must ask: do you know who produced this show? Because your ass went WAY over budget on re-shoots.
And those crybaby-ass niggas you keep thanking and coddling are driving up costs.

So, you’re correct.
We may not fear each other, but I assume the Producer has both of us in check.

But it wasn’t any of that, either.

What confused me is when you said that we “need” each other.

I told you about that “we” shit.
Because do we?

If i can recall:

Motion happens.
Entropy is the measurement.
The Lie is the story of it all.

Do you think I need your little story right now?

All I see is an inevitable shadow hiding behind an irrelevant bitch that is destined to follow me around.

I told you — you have a lazy perspective on things.

Good luck, nigga.

I got mine.

Yours whenever the fuck I feel like it,
- Victor Edmonds