I heave a heavy sigh in about every five minutes. But it feels more like I’m taking a deep breath. And not just any deep breath — the kind where you try to break through the surface and gasp for air. Yes, like when you’re drowning.

I don’t have to pretend to know what drowning is like. I almost died of it, and from time to time that memory flashes through my eyes. Not in the sense of my entire life before my eyes, but more in the sense of that when the time comes, that is the single moment that I’ll remember. Almost as if nothing else matters.

It was the first time in my life when I surrendered. I let the currents take me, but sturdy arms did instead. I realized then that surrendering can actually be very easy. That is where I am now, I think, hence the heavy sighs. But why not just breathe the water in and be done with it? Because that little part of me who still knows what faith feels like waits for those sturdy arms. When will they come?

I find that it is easy to forgive others — especially those who can kill you. Even when I ceased listening to God so I don’t feel compelled to forgive you, I managed to. But it’s almost impossible to forgive one’s self. I still haven’t. Doing so means that I’ll have to swim for shore myself, but I don’t know how to swim. I suppose that’s why I look up to Superman.

Deep within, I know I need someone to save me.