There was this gaping hole that seemed to grow with every breath, which is nessary to live I was just trying to put anything there to replace. It became second nature, while first nature was putting sense of me to the way side. So I could take a breath without spikes going through me. Kept making sequels of you, sequel after sequel. Your ghost kept stabbing my brain and psychic torturing me on repeat. But I want to nourish me. The original that was you was s***, actually worse it's the thing at the bottom of the sewer. Your ghost finally crossed over to the other side, you finally stopped stabing my psychic. I can finally breath. You've been buried alive. This is your final resting place, the ashes I thought were me, was me becoming a Phoenix. Fresh air is great I can breath on the surface