Troubles beat against me like angry billows against a ship.
I was sinking quickly and a rush of sorrow like water began trickling down my throat.
My lungs burned with desperate desire for the air of happiness, but in the midst of these difficulties I was determined to rise.
I gave myself a push and emerged at the surface, and for a while I was happy when I thought it was over.
Just then the clouds started to rapidly release its angry droplets that I know so well as depression.
It blurred my vision that I could no longer see my way to the shore of joy.
I began crying out to the father who promised not to forsake me, and I was sure I heard his vaguely familiar voice commanding the storm to be still.
Though I am still unable to swim, with the help of my Father I will ride out any storm.