For as long as I can remember, I’ve sensed things others couldn’t. Energies, presences, whispers from another realm—all mixed into the fabric of my everyday life. It wasn’t until much later that I understood why: I’m an empath. Being an empath means I absorb emotions and energies around me, sometimes to the point where it feels overwhelming. Negative energies, draining people—what I call “energy vampires” or “soul snatchers”—can knock me off balance if I’m not careful. For a long time, this sensitivity felt like a curse. But now, I see it as a gift—a calling. Encounters Beyond the Veil Throughout my life, I’ve had moments that defy logic. One night driving past a cemetery, I saw a pink orb-like form linger around my car. It felt playful and curious, not frightening—a gentle energy reaching out across the veil. But it wasn’t one of my guardian angels. I’ve felt their presence in other ways, and this orb was something else—something that just passed through, maybe just drawn to my l...
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She stood at the edge of a quiet room, where the light of day met the shadows of her heart. The room was still, but her thoughts were anything but. She gazed at a single beam of sunlight breaking through the curtains, its warmth a silent invitation to step closer. Yet, she hesitated, rooted in place by an invisible force that felt as though it bound her spirit to the ground.
Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her hands pressed tightly against her heart, as if trying to awaken something that had long grown quiet. She felt hollow, like a shell washed ashore, its insides emptied by relentless tides. Once, she had felt so alive—connected to something greater, an unshakable faith that carried her through life’s storms. But now, the connection felt frayed, as though a thread in her soul had snapped, leaving her adrift.
The memories were vivid: the mornings she’d risen with joy, her spirit attuned to the whispers of the divine. The prayers she’d offered felt like direct conversations, her heart pouring out gratitude and trust. But now, those prayers felt heavy, as though her words never left the room, falling to the floor like autumn leaves.
The disconnection was not sudden—it had crept in slowly, like dusk overtaking the day. Life’s burdens, unanswered questions, and quiet doubts had built a wall she couldn’t see but always felt. And with each passing day, she grew more distant from the woman she once was, the woman who knew God not just as a distant figure but as a constant presence in her life.
Yet, in the midst of her longing, there was a spark—small but persistent. A part of her refused to let go of the light. It was the same part that drew her to the beam of sunlight now stretching across the room, as though reaching for her. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the golden light, and for a brief moment, she felt it—the warmth, the presence, the possibility of connection.
She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, not polished or rehearsed, but raw and trembling. “God, I feel lost. But I know You’re here. Help me find my way back to You, back to myself.”
The words broke something open inside her. Tears flowed freely, carrying with them the weight of unspoken pain and forgotten dreams. And as she wept, she felt a shift—small, almost imperceptible, like the faint rustle of leaves in a breeze. It wasn’t a complete healing, not yet, but it was enough to remind her that she wasn’t alone.
The beam of sunlight seemed brighter now, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a stirring in her heart, a quiet but profound reminder: the light had never left her—it had been waiting for her to reach out.
ChatGPT, created by OpenAI
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