Now, the way that I discovered my abilities was not a particularly lovely little experience so I would suggest that if you find any material herein that causes you offense and/or distress that you should cease your reading and continue to go about your life/lives.
To say that I grew up in a dysfunctional family would be an understatement of incredible proportions. My parents were physically, mentally and emotionally abusive and my brother and I were forced to fight each other from the tender age of six and eight, respectively. I also had a sister whom I later trained to help study her own abilities in order to enable her to be better protected against our parents. I remember the first time I had my "surge". I was being strangled by The Mother against the wall in, what was then, our downstairs corridor. It's important to note that abuse has been a main-stay throughout my entire life, I went through the care system and was beaten and abused by all of the "carers" that I lived with: so that night's abuse was just another episode in my tragic little existence. I remember when I got to the point that I was so angry that I felt a surge of heat, prickling, and (strangely, at the same) intense cold. The feeling was that incredible that I gasped and started scrambling at the wall behind me. From that point onwards I was obsessed with this new-found source of power and began to study it and (disappointingly) abuse it. I turned it against the parents and the bullies at school, equally. I had lived my life being terrified of those people and, now that I had find a way to hurt them, I was uncaring about the damage that I caused to their minds.
The first ability to surface was telepathy and I used this talent to induce migraines within the minds of my attackers. At this stage, I saw nothing wrong with what I was doing. I still don't. I was a scared little boy who had found a weapon to defend himself with. I wielded it gladly. A couple of years later (High School) I began to read the minds of people out loud, and to them. It basically began when two girls behind me were mockingly examining each others' palms in a half-baked joke at palmistry. So I asked to see their hands (the seeing was irrelevant) and they allowed me to take hold of it. I used the sensation of touch as a way to force my way into their minds and pull out their secrets. One girl started crying and ran out of the room after I told her about her troubles at home. Sadly, the rumour spread and I was having to either prove my worth, by ripping apart their secrets, or be denounced as a fraud and be bullied further. They came to me, I justified, they were (literally) asking for it. I left no stone unturned in their minds. I left no mercy intact.
I can justify my mentality. When I was growing up I had minimal contact with the outside world so I began (oh, so early) to see powerless people as second-grade citizens. I had power; they had nothing but their mercifully short lifespan. As a consequence I felt no remorse for stomping through their secrets. I was better than them, in every conceivable way.
I have only recently began practicing telepathy again after other psionic exploits had held my attention for several years.
I have only recently began practicing telepathy again after other talents held my attention for a matter of years.