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He was born with the gnawing guilt in his chest, with that terrible heavy guilt deep in his stomach. No matter what he did or who he talked to, he felt as though he was in the wrong place. It was as if he missed someone. Or rather, someone was missing him. Of course, he lashed out. He couldn’t take it, these feelings that felt as though they belonged to someone else.
He was told to keep it to himself or to go to a therapist and solve it. How could he when he didn’t even know the root of it? He felt alone, alienated from his peers. Perhaps he did it to himself. This cycle of self-loathing and confusion pushed everyone away. He deserved it. It felt that way.
He was born with a feeling of love, but he had no one to give it to. Sure, he had his family and the people that seemed to naturally flock to him. Someone was missing, or maybe a group of people? It sounded strange, and everyone he told shrugged it off. He wanted to travel, to find the person who called to him. This feeling in his chest wouldn’t leave him.
His feelings led to isolation from those around him. Sure, he would spend time with them and laugh with them, but in his mind, he was elsewhere. No matter what he did, no matter how many people or animals he loved or helped, it gnawed at him like a rabid animal. He needed to leave.
Neither knew that their hearts would lead them to each other. Nobody knew how they felt or were connected in the same way that they were. Jesus was alarmed when strangers fell to their knees, sobbing and grasping for him. He wasn’t prepared for the truth, how could have anyone prepared him? They followed him, calling him the messiah. He didn't feel like a leader, he felt like a lost kid. None of his new “followers” was the one he was looking for but could not turn them away. It was an odd sight, an 18-year old with a following, but they continued.
Judas traveled alone, just a pack and crumpled bills. He had no idea where to go, so he went by instinct. Often he wanted to stop and run back home. He wanted to return to what he knew, even if it left him feeling incomplete. There was something comforting about it. Shrugging, he bought another train ticket and watched as the horizon grew distant. His heart fluttered and knew that it was almost time. He felt sick.
Judas was crying before he saw him. The rush of emotions hit him so hard it was difficult to breathe. He wasn’t even aware of what he was doing when his body lurched forward and ran to the stranger across the station. He was in chaos, guilt and joy, and sadness and anger. He spread his arms and latched onto the wide shoulders of the man in front of him. He wanted to hit him, he wanted to hold him, he wanted to be consoled by him. Someone he never met before, but someone who was closer to him than anyone else. He settled for sobbing into their shoulder, mumbling incomprehensibly.
Jesus had never come into contact with someone who made him feel like this. Sure, he felt love for all living things. He felt better when his disciples, as they said to be called, were around but it was nothing like this. He could feel his heart stop and beat a million times a second, his mind was rushing with things to say. He was sad and happy for the person in front of him, and he was frustrated and confused. Jesus was left in awe when the stranger hung onto him and cried in their shoulder. He couldn’t even understand what they were trying to say. They obviously felt the same way he did.
“I hate you! I-I missed you! I waited, I searched. I love you,” Judas sobbed.
“I found you,” Jesus murmured, raising his hand and holding the other close.
For the first time, they felt whole. They were still lost and confused but things were falling into place. Finally, they could heal.