My friend Jesus Christ

He hated this world. Hated and afraid. He was afraid of the sun over his head, Copenhagen"s winding streets and his dark convulsioned, was afraid of the emptiness of his own apartment, random passers-by, friends, the girls who loved, and everything that reminded him that there was no one next to him. There are no parents who died in a car accident when he was only thirteen. There is no older sister, which he brought to suicide with his such demanding and such selfish love. No girl stronger, whose unrestrained tenderness gave rise to only his cruelty in response.
And on the very day when the pain hub in it grew up to unimaginable sizes, filled the body and head and already threatened to break out, this big appeared in his life The guy in the sandals, at first glance, so not similar to that once died on the cross: