The Public Apology of Shia LaBeouf
It starts with this: Words are important. But I can barely remember
all the things I’ve done and said. Sorry, world!
Action figures, videogames, superhero movies, and iPods which were
mine alone, which served as my inspiration:
they all were unintelligent, ambiguous, and needlessly hurtful vapor
floating in the atmosphere. That’s my fault; I fucked up.
I deeply regret the manner in which these events have unfolded. I’m
sorry for thinking I was being serious
instead of accurately realizing I was mocking you. Even though I wish
I hadn’t made so many of you angry,
I owe it to future generations to explain why I’m not famous anymore:
I looked in the mirror and said, “Grow up, Shia!
No disrespect, you’ve got to learn from your mistakes. Stop creating!”
I was alone in a very dangerous situation:
I got lost in the creative process, and the massive disruption it’s caused.
(Their lives I try to read as much as I can, and call it our culture. That
way, they’re immortal.)
I couldn’t deny the facts, in light of the recent attacks against my artistic
integrity: I lifted the text; copying isn’t particularly creative work; trust
is hard-earned; and I need to work on being a less controversial tweeter.
Personal beliefs aside, I’ve let my family down. (We used to sit in a circle
around a campfire; everything we have today that’s cool
comes from someone wanting more of something they loved in the past.)
I do not believe that in the long run this is about individuals.
I knew that it’d make a poignant, relevant short, but I want my life back.
This is not a publicity stunt.