I don't have any questions about what I am or anything like that. I'm 17 years old, and I live in Pennsylvania. I just need to get my story out there, it's been bottled up for so long. I guess it all started around 40 something years ago. My uncle Chris was out for a walk near his house in up state New York. He was 14 years old, and died much to earlier. A drunk driver hit him, the driver was arrested, but it happened right under a tree next to his house. His name was Christopher. My middle name is Criostoir, which is Gaelic for Christopher. But his nickname was Munch (he liked to eat a lot), and I was always attracted to that word. Ever since I was a kid I've been writing it all over the place. Funny thing is, I never knew about the nickname until my 16th birthday. Now let's get something out of the way, it's not a big part of the story, but something important about me. I'm a psychic empath. I can feel others emotions, even if I've never met them before. It's been happening since I was a little kid. Anyway, when I was 15 I met a Cherokee woman, she was a medicine woman for her tribe, but decided to live away from the tribe. I don't exactly know what she used, but after performing a ritual, she opened my third eye. Afterwards I could see people that were dead. I could hear them too, and also feel their emotions like they were still alive. I never saw faces. I saw bodies of colour, black and white. Over the past 2 years I've learned through experience that the ones that look black aren't usually the nicest. I guess I've seen some nice ones, but most of them are particularly rude. I've only met a few white ones. I tend to ignore them now a days, I learned that if you acknowledge them, they'll never leave you alone. There are two specific ones, I've heard them fighting in my house, been here since I started seeing them. Both of them know I can see them. During a certain time in my life, I was self harming. One of them, the white one, saved me. I guess he had hidden my blade in the shed behind my house, because when I was looking for something in there, I found it. The white one is, get this, Chris. When I see these spirits, I can't make out faces, but I can tell who they are. It's weird, I know, but it's true. My uncle, for some unknown reason, is watching after my family. Anyway, on my 16th birthday, I spent it with my family up in New York, we stayed at the house right across the street. When I went out for a walk that day, on my birthday, I saw the death happen, right in front of me I saw it. It was all quick, and scattered, but I saw my uncle die right in front of me, right under that tree. And just as soon as it came, it was gone. And every time I go to Christopher's grave, I get this feeling. Kinda like when I feel others emotions, except I feel safe. Protected. Like I said, I don't need help or suggestions or anything. I just needed to tell someone all of this, and this seemed like the only good place. If I told anybody I know, they'd all just think I'm crazy.
This Is Just My Story
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