Exit Wounds

16 | girl, stop

S I X T E E N

LOS ANGELES, CA

          Sadie wakes me up at ungodly hours of the morning to discuss our following moves.

          Truth be told, I have zero clue on how she's so fresh and radiant this early, especially after a night of drinking and eating carbs, two things she's always been vehemently opposed to, whereas the last thing I want to do right now is have a serious, important conversation about my trauma. I'm too hungover for any of this, feeling like my head is just mere seconds away from exploding, and an uneasy sensation settles in the pit of my stomach.

           I've lived with that feeling for as long as I can remember, so, technically, I should be used to it by now, yet I'm not. I always fall prey to it, especially during more vulnerable periods of my life; I felt it hit me particularly hard when we first landed on LAX, when I all but had a panic attack in public. It's embarrassing to be affected by this even after all these years, even after therapy, and, though I know I shouldn't be ashamed of it, something in my brain disconnects and what I know at a theoretical level doesn't necessarily translate perfectly into practice.

          Hypocrisy, that's what it is. Weakness and hypocrisy.

          "So, I've already been looking into potential auditions for you so we can get back on schedule once we're back in New York," Sadie starts, comfortably tucked into the empty space next to me on my bed, while I turn my back to her and let my eyes flutter closed. If I somehow manage to tune her out, I'll be able to lull myself back to sleep and get some well-deserved rest. "I've focused on roles that are minimally attainable and that you'd be interested in. There's not much variety, to be honest, and we might have to work on your image so executives can see you're capable of playing more than just one type of character, but that's hardly your fault or your responsibility."

          "Thanks for the consideration," I groan, though part of me appreciates her being thoughtful enough to look out for me, especially during the events of the past week, which feels never-ending at this point. It feels like I've lived a dozen lives since the moment I got my mother's original phone call, and none of them have been on a screen. There comes a time in every actress' life when they grow tired of playing the victim, the damsel in distress, but the line separating the victim from a badly written female character who's supposed to be a strong female character is thin. There's barely any balance, and don't get me started on female characters written by men. "What are my options?"

          She lays it on me, as mechanically as she can so I won't have time to properly process the information or let my emotions step in my way. I'm thankful for that, as I feel so sensitive at the moment that I doubt I'd be able to objectively examine these opportunities by myself; with Sadie's aid, it makes it easier to try and move forward with my life.

          Maybe she really is my friend. Huh. Some food for thought, future me.

          There are some promising ideas among Sadie's selection, ones that won't force me to dumb myself down just to appear adequate for the consumption of male directors (like the so-called 'strong female character' who gets beaten, humiliated, and worse on repeat, but it just serves to highlight how strong she is; think Sansa Stark and Daenerys Targaryen and the exploitation of female trauma).

          One that stands out to me is an unnamed project starring opposite Beverly Kean, whose bravery I've always admired ever since she was stuck in a disastrous PR relationship with a man, despite being a) a lesbian and b) engaged to a woman. It was a whole mess, but all innocent parties came out on top afterward. My only hesitation with it lies with my self-doubt and belief that I can't possibly be good enough to share a set with Beverly Kean (it's not even about the whole never meet your idols thing), even when considering my eagerness to succeed and pathological need to prove myself and have my performance seen as believable. We decide to shelve it for now, as I still have time to make a decision.