#hollow section

Fucking flea. Fucking winged dick. May it burn in fire with its flights. May it burn in hell with its saws. And what is the reward?! THERE IS NO FUCKING REWARD, ON THE WAY TO THE FUCKING CITY, GO FUCK YOURSELF PLAYER WHO LOST ALL HIS BEADS!!!! MY BEEEEEADS! THERE WERE 500 OF THEM AND NOW THEY’RE GOOOONE!

ALL I FUCKING WANT IS TO BUY A LITTLE KEY! LET ME BUY A LITTLE KEY!!!!!!! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S BEHIND THAT DOOR! MOST LIKELY THERE WILL BE SOME DICK SITTING THERE WHO WILL TELL ME “FUCK OFF, THAT WAS MY DOOR,” BUT AT LEAST I’LL FUCKING KNOW IT!

WHO EVEN MAKES THE PATH TO THE BOSS THROUGH A CROWD OF FUCKING RATS?!!!! THROUGH A CROWD OF FUCKING RATS THAT TAKE AWAY 2!!!!1!1!11!1! HEARTS?1?1?1?1??11

And don’t get me wrong, I actually beat the first game at 112 percent, I know about the difficulty, it’s just that Team Cherry went nuts.

They say I am hollow. That my ribs are an empty cathedral, a body carved out and left to echo.

But hollowness is not weakness— it is the space where fire gathers. It is the cavern where prayers become earthquakes. It is the place where gods hammer their truths into bone.

I was not born hollow. I was scraped clean. Every lie pulled out of me like teeth, every bruise etched in as scripture, every silence sharpened until I was nothing but vessel.

Call me hollow, but know this: hollow things ring the loudest. Strike me and I will sing, louder than bells, louder than the thunder the gods threw down when they abandoned us.

The church said emptiness was sin. But I know better. The void is where I keep my secrets. The void is where my rage lives. The void is where I build my altar from splinters, from broken glass, from every word they ever used to name me unworthy.