You're dead, you idiot. How did it happen? It doesn't really matter, the thing is you can't lie down like decent folk. No, not you. You've come back. And you've fucking changed, man. You aren't the person you used to be. The monkey is on you too, in you really, clawing at you, eating your guts out and shitting darkness into your soul. You can do things you couldn't do before. So what's your big plan? Do you just walk back into everyone's life? You're dead to these people, man. They grieved. They moved on, or tried to. You should've moved on too. But no, not you. You have something to do. So now you're fucking things up for them again. Wasn't the first time enough?
As if that wasn't enough, you brought it with you when you came back. You may not remember, but you did it man, you made the deal because you're so fucking special. "I'm sorry, I can't be dead, I've got things to do." Fucker.
Here's me bursting your bubble. You aren't the only one. Look out there. There's a few. You can see the monkey in their eyes. They think they're special too. Some of them loose it. The monkey eats them up inside and they go batshit. Sometimes they're themselves, and sometimes the monkey has them, really has them, has their will, controls them like a puppet.
Those aren't the worst though, the hollows are. There's no man left, just that black monkey in a meatsuit. They're almost as dangerous as you are. But it won't happen to you right? It won't eat your soul and turn you. You got control. You can stop when you want. You can even control the others, especially the hollows. Because you're that fucking special.
So what you wanted was this fucking important, Huh? Go for it buddy, my money is on the monkey.