I only immune because the holy spirit is by my side, allowing the pain to hide. But even then, I am not completely 'Immune'

I am immune. I’m immune to the cold air heavily breathing on my flesh. Immunisation has infected me with a virus and this virus is stabbing the soul right out of me; but I feel nothing because I am immune. I’m immune to all pain. I’m immune to all sadness. I’m immune to all grief. I’m immune to all antagonism. I’m just infected. I will let you believe that, while I know the truth, lies on a different page, in a different book, in a different library belonging to my body; a library no-one can access but me.

The truth lies on a blistering page, a page that defines me. The author of the book? Me, myself and I.
In that book, on that page, my definition lies. The truth. I am an infection, a bomb, waiting to explode and I care too much... the truth. I am not infected. I am infecting. I infect with love. I infect with warmth. I am the virus.

To say I feel no pain is a lie, so it does not lie on my page, in my book, belonging to my library. It lies in the devils prison cell. I face pain of not experiencing the affection I was told I deserve by a heaven sent angel (or at least he was on in my eyes). I hurt when my nightmares spring to life. I die when those who don't know me begin to judge me by the colour of my unadorned and visible flesh. I tear apart when the rumours begin to vaguely emerge from the flood of darkness which fills only the most inconsiderate hearts.

Just like you I am human. I make mistakes. I am still learning. I have a heart. I have a brain.  A part of me is full of hate, but unlike you I refuse to let that part dominate. I love from my inner core. I accept the pain when it comes stampeding to my door. I allow you to punch, kick and beat me to the floor. I don't mind allowing you to spit at me, all because the bible says, ‘love your brother like I love thee’. On the Day of Judgment when we all bow before the Heavenly Father (our creator) and his holy son (our saviour) I will shed tears and ask him to forgive all of my brothers and sisters for all their sins... you are my brothers and sisters, not my enemies. Jesus taught us to love and never abhor, our holy saviour taught us to face life with an open never a closed door. I will forever follow in his footsteps.

And, that, is, the, truth.

That is the content of the page, concealed in the book, kept on a special bookcase, in the library belonging to my body; the page you will never read the page that whispers the command to allow you to cut me so deep and watch me bleed. That page is the reason I wake up smiling every morning and rest my head just the same every night. But they, the creator and the son are the reason I never learn to hate you, they are the reason I love thee with the very same affection they give me.