Partly Cloudy, 64°
Alas, my love, for you are beautiful beyond compare and I am sick with yearning. As I sit here on a lonely Saturday night staring at a picture of you, I realize with a haunting certainty that I should have stopped Cupid’s arrow in mid-air like I did with those bullets in my late 90s sci-fi hit “The Matrix.”
If only I had reached out my hand when I first laid eyes on you, freezing the god of love’s missile mid-flight. Then I could have dropped it to the ground before it pierced my character’s heart like a bullet from an agent’s gun in the popular sequels, including “The Matrix Reloaded” and “The Matrix Revolutions.” Some nights I lie filled with thoughts of you and fall into a deep sleep, from which no amount of red pills offered by my costar Laurence Fishburn in the blockbuster film that later became my claim to fame, could wake me. For only in my dreams can I hold you in my arms.
I can’t explain why I feel this way any better than the writers of the Matrix could explain the plot of the movie to me when I first read the script. How do you tell someone you love them when you can’t even properly tell them why the setting of your next film will be a complex all-encompassing virtual reality used by artificial intelligence to farm humans for energy resources? People tell me I’m special, that I will forever be remembered for my iconic role. But I don’t care that people refer to me as the One when they see me in public, as long as I’m the only One for you.
Have you ever struggled against something with all your might, knowing that you can never win? Have you ever pretended to fight Hugo Weaving in an abandoned train station, knowing his character would just resurrect once you had won? Sometimes I wish you were just an actor pretending to be divine, instead of the angel that you are. Things would have been so much easier that way. But I’ve studied stage combat from some of the best in the world, and I still can’t fight these feelings I have for you.
Perhaps if I had dodged Cupid’s dart by leaning backwards really close to the ground with my feet still upright, sorta like the elaborate limbo I had to do in the climactic scene of the Wachowski siblings’ famous action thriller, my heart wouldn’t hurt so much right now. Even so, I hope one day we will meet again. Until then, this pain will be inspiration for my next role, where I play a rugged, brooding underdog who must overcome adversity to save the ones he loves.
