Lilog224ever
At 34, I experienced something I've never felt in my life. Something so vivid, so overwhelming, it shook me to my core and left me questioning reality. I was in the library when a 16-year-old started telling me a story-a story so heavy, so raw, so unimaginable, that it triggered a full-blown panic attack. My chest was pounding, my hair stood on end, and I felt as if my soul was about to lift out of my body. I had to stand up, shout, move, just to keep myself from collapsing.
This wasn't just a story-it was prophecy. It was trauma. It was a glimpse into the life of a child carrying burdens no one should ever have to carry. He had been cutting himself for years. He was about to go into the military. He was only sixteen. The weight of what he shared hit me harder than anything I've ever witnessed.
I screamed. I shouted. I told people to pay attention to these kids. I told them to move out of my sight. I told them I couldn't hear any more stories, couldn't bear it. The images, the intensity, the truth of what this boy had experienced-it was beyond the matrix of everyday life. It was spiritual, prophetic, and terrifying. I washed the blood he had shown over me in the name of Jesus, and even that moment was so overwhelming it still shakes me to think about it.
This is my testimony. My unfiltered, raw, and vivid account of witnessing trauma, prophecy, and the fragility of youth. It's the story of what it's like to see the unimaginable, to be triggered in ways you can't explain, and to confront reality in its purest, most shocking form. It's the story of me, standing there, overwhelmed, frightened, but determined to tell the truth.
This is the story of survival. Of faith. Of witnessing something no one should ever have to see-and realizing the world often doesn't pay attention.