I had spent days, what had seemed to be months clenching to the piece of life I had. I was lost, in a chaotic silence, hoping and praying for redemption, for savior. My mind played tricks on me at least 3 times a day; I could hear the voices of rescuers and helicopters coming to save me, I could smell dead animals that meant food for my stomach; but I was only hallucinating, only taunting my self into pure torture and I hated it, it made me ache for salvation even more. As minutes went by each day my stomach twisted like a turn table, it ached at the exhaustible hunger for a crumb of food. After hours of walking my body weakened with every slight move I made; breathing was an excruciating pain in my chest. I wanted to die, to allow my body to crumble to the ground and quiver helplessly in this isolated jungle. I just wanted the fuel still slightly burning in me to just extinguish quickly, so I could no longer feel pain, no longer experience suffering. My destination was no longer salvation but death. I had nightmares of being eaten by imaginary animals that I had never seen or drowning in the lake or worse I imagined being stuck here forever, lost without anyone coming to search for me. The thought of being trapped here forever terrified me, it motivated me to continue to walk in faith, and that’s what I hated. I hated having this optimistic hope in such a terrible situation, I wanted to give up, but every time I thought I was through my hallucinations got the best of me and I was right back to believing I would be rescued. Finally after what the rescuers said to be 45 days, I was found, hunted out by 2 rescue dogs and a team of police officers. When I saw the sudden move of an object that just wasn’t the swaying of tress I knew I was free, I knew suffering was over I was found and the best part of it all was the feeling in my heart screaming “finally, somebody cares.”