The "boy" inside you has to die. If there's still a "boy" inside you, like there's a "boy" inside me. You've swallowed a placebo and you're simply lying to yourself. It takes a shit load of guts to admit that in the first place so you're on the right track.

But you must kill the boy inside you. The boy who wants mothering from other people must die. The boy who wants mummy's strokes and reminders of how much a good little boy he is must die. The boy who wants to cuddle all the time must fucking die.

Because if you don't kill the boy, you're fucked. And you're living the shell of a man you want to be. And one day that shell may very well crack. And when it does, you're the one who's going to be left to pick up the pieces.

The Red Pill is a proven prescription to killing the "boy" inside you.

If he's still alive, like he is in me, we're yet to swallow the pill.