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.
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This Is Just My Story
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Thank you for sharing your story. I am glad that you've got someone looking after you. In a way, seeing his death and stopping the harm to yourself, you are returning the favor. You have a friend in Chris.
I am glad to know that you have stopped harming yourself. It is quite understandable how you got to that point but it is a testament to your character that you've moved past it. You can always talk to Chris and are never alone. Many of us are like you and you can always come here, even if others around you aren't easy to talk to.
Be proud of who you are,