Matt Mythos aka MM

MM sat bolt upright, sheets tangled around his legs like a python's coils. His heart hammered against ribs as if it were trying to escape the cage of reality itself – a sensation all too familiar after years spent yearning for power and receiving only silence from any deity who might be listening (or perhaps just ignoring him).

He ran trembling hands through messy hair, his third eye throbbing with a dull ache. The dream felt so real; he could still feel the phantom touch of that young woman's fingers against skin – a spark where her energy had brushed away doubt and fear for an intoxicating moment in time before leaving behind this unsettling echo.

"Duality," MM muttered, testing out words like a musician tuning their instrument. "Ying Yang... Black White." He paced his tiny apartment floorboards worn smooth by years of restless nights spent wrestling with the same impossible desires: to escape mediocrity and become something more than just another face in an indifferent crowd; someone who could shape reality itself instead being shaped by it,

He looked at a chipped mug on his nightstand. It held only cold coffee from yesterday's **** attempt for inspiration – a pathetic reflection of himself he wanted desperately changed into… what? A superhero with the power to rewrite destiny or perhaps just enough influence over mundane events so that maybe this time around luck wouldn’t be such an elusive mistress, leaving him drowning in a sea of missed opportunities.

The thought sparked something within MM – a flicker not unlike hope itself but tinged also by apprehension and uncertainty: could he really trust the words whispered to him during his slumber? Was it truly power she offered or just another cruel trick designed for amusement on some cosmic level, leaving only shattered expectations in its wake?