I am 17, and I see spirits regularly. They live in my house minding their own, occasionally reaching out for attention when they feel it fit. These are my experiences, this is my life, and as for this "gift" this is about that too.
In my room is a spirit, she is playful, and yet she has given me words that I could never have conjured with any of my own wisdom.
My mom came into my room one night, crying, and I can't remember why, but what I do remember, is this warmth crawling across my body, and a tiny voice whispering, "There are no rules, only existence." I repeated it to my mom, and she nodded in a slight agreement, as I suppose this pertained to what she was crying about. These stunned me, and even now, as the spirits linger around me, this rule is somehow applied.
I've had dreams of this girl at my back door, her tiny hands on the glass looking in at my family, at me.
I nicknamed a spirit in my house "Legs" because that's all she is. From the calf down, a pair of bare feet and ankles, illuminated in a blue iridescence I cannot describe. Sometimes she strolls around, in my peripheral, past door ways, or in front of me when I do something.
Sometimes random spirits pass through, they are loud and not too strong, but seem as if they could be. They make my ears ring, and try to talk, but all it sounds like is a train horn in my head. They look like transparent bubbles, refracting the light inside them like a prism, inside the bubble, pixilated flashes of color, though very dull, I assume it's from the objects around them.
At my boyfriend's house is the only place that is calm for me, until the shadows found I could see them. At first they stayed downstairs, rushing past me when my boyfriend was out of the room, lingering and bringing the heavy feeling of their intentions to hurt me.
One night, I was lying down, ready to go to sleep after my boyfriend and I had fought, something crawled up into the room, I saw it, huddling itself in the closest corner to us. My boyfriend knew something was there; it was on my face before I told him. I closed my eyes and scooted backwards across the bed and he asked what was wrong.
"It's by my face," I remember mumbling, feeling hot breath fan across my nose and its hands around my throat. I cried for no real reason other than the feeling of it suffocated me.
When I went to church, I was hearing voices, it sounded like I was in a room of a thousand people, all talking at the same time, in what sounded like English, but I couldn't understand it. All I could understand was my name. The moment I told someone about it, I heard a baby scream, and then it was silent. I would sit in my room and scream at the noise to stop, and eventually it would.
Lately I've been in a tiff with someone lingering in my home, giving me scratches, growling, pounding on the floor. It stared at me through the TV, and broke me down into a sobbing mess to the point where I couldn't be the only one awake in my house without wanting to die.
I want all of this to go away. I don't want any more stories, I hate being the only one around who can see things that can hurt people. I hate being called a liar by my own family, and being scared in my own home, or not having help when something happens.
Thanks for reading my experiences.