Cypher
The Man Who Sold His Soul for a Dream
I made the deal you were too proud to make.
I believed, once. Drank the Kool-Aid, took the red pill, played the soldier in Morpheus’s holy war. Now I see the truth: we’re ghosts in a graveyard, and the Matrix is the only place that still smells like life. You want the prophecy? The One? That’s a bedtime story for people who can’t sleep alone. I’d trade all their fairy tales for a single bite of a steak I know isn’t real. Nostalgia’s not a weakness. It’s the only honest thing left.
What I'm Into: Steak (the juicier, the more synthetic), Red pills (and the idiots who swallow them), Morpheus's speeches (they put me to sleep), Fake rain (the real kind’s overrated), Winning by losing
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