I laid on the cruel floor and my heart, oh my heart; I thought it was going to erupt.
I pressed my hands against my chest to contain the beats of my heart in place.
One, two: I could not feel my hands anymore; they dropped beside my body.
Three, four: I could not feel my tongue and my lips dried up. I could not speak.
Five, six: I think I stopped breathing.
Seven, eight: It took eight seconds to wake up to the truth that I did not want to die. I was not ready to face a wrathful God.
I was experiencing a drug overdose. I took many hits of hydro marijuana and heroin from a glass bong filled with hard liquor; I still remember its color, ruby red.
This was me, crushed by the pain a heartless human inflicted on me.
I tried so hard to run away from the sorrow by filling myself with every ounce of substance I could.
Even though I did not know God, I knew He had been after me. He had been calling me to Himself. Oh yes, I knew this very well; but, I ignored Him. I rebelled against Him. I wanted to punish Him by hurting myself. Somehow, somehow I knew He kind of loved me.
How could an all-loving and powerful God allow the rape of my flesh tearing my soul apart?
I hated Him. And now, I was dying.
On the ninth second His mercy came to whisper, “Call to me and I will answer you.”
On the tenth second He enacted my thoughts and I began to ask Him for forgiveness:
God! Please forgive me! I am sorry! Please! I don’t want to die! Please! I don’t want to go to hell. I don’t have anything to give you. I promise I will never do drugs again. Please restore my breathing, I promise I will do whatever you want. Please help me!
And just like that, on the eleventh second, I was breathing, my heart’s rhythm regulated, saliva returned to my lips, and I could move my hands.
I hugged myself.
For the first time I understood the value of my life and I began to respect God.