The Gospel according to me

There is an idea of a Joshua Sklarchuk; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there. I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. I feel lost, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip. I need you, I need you like no other. I don't know why I feel this way, you yourself surely does not deserve my perpetual gaze. Your beauty and serenity is boundless. You should not be forced in the same pot like me, lord knows you have had troubles which outmatched my own. I am sorry, I am truly sorry for anything I put you through, I am sorry for things that I have said, of did not act upon. You mean so much to me it almost hurts as much to just say I am sorry and not be able to act upon it. I just hope that in the near future that I will be able to live up to what you made, or at least help to make. I guess I'll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I'm a pretty uh, I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy to think this but I am can't help it. I think to much too often. Some day I will be like everyone around me, oblivious to all that around me. Maybe then...Maybe then you and I will finally be...Or hell me be with you... I have never felt this way...