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.

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