I used to make stuff up a lot as a child.  I wore that look of longing.  Longing for love…longing for acceptance as a child.

I used to lie about what I liked as a child.  I would change my tastes to suit.  To suit what you liked…what you liked about me as a child.

I used to tell stories as a child.  I would weave tales of drama, grace and intrigue.  Tales to reel you in..reel you into my world as a child.

And now I sit in my windowsill, graceful hands striking keys, sipping tea.  It’s my job to tell the truth…to relay what longs to be said from those beyond.  They come to me in quiet moments full of love and bursting with feeling, with pictures and with words.  It’s my job to feel, to see and to hear.  And accuracy, you see, is the order of the day.

What I want or think I need is irrelevant.

These days I talk to angels, to spirits, to those who’ve passed (and by the way, you can too).  I feel them all around me in a warm embrace of trust. They help me…they help me to trust myself.  There’s no time for ego, no time for fear.  “Tell them!  Tell them!” they say.  And I do…

But not without a bit of disbelief.

Because you see, I used to make stuff up as a child.  And how do I know?!  How do I know I’m not doing it again…just longing for love again?Longing for love just as I did as a child.  How do I know I’m not just spinning another tale…spinning a tale like I did as a child?

But I suppose I know the answer to that.  And love, love is the answer.  I love myself and love begets trust.  And I’m beginning to trust myself.  My name is Danielle and I talk to angels and yes, they all know my name.

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