one always wonders where information comes from.. like you are only 6 people away from speaking with anyone.

Time. I have been traveling time for the past few years now. No one believes except my shrink which I have proven myself to time and time again. I wonder if I was a great writer or story teller why I cannot put together a story that is so impressive that people read it until the end. I try to believe me with 2,000 plus pages, sic now seven journals, tons of censorship, and other items I wonder why? I mean it is not like I have much else to do or say. I write I wrote and then I found out what I the main problem, and I am unsure what to do about it. The past few weeks I have been trying to figure out, what to do about missing pages in my journal. At first, I thought maybe I deleted them, so I printed them out. Then my mind blanks for a moment say a day or three and my printed pages are gone to. Drama for me. Did I write them? Yes, I am sure I wrote them. Do I rewrite what I wrote? So I try, and the identical occurrence happens to mean if you are at 379 pages and when you go to print again it goes back 270 pages. What does that mean? AM I in sometime holding pattern and/or was the person in this body not experiencing the alike activities? So I think and realize there are many mes. We write the same stuff. I can tell the difference usually between my congradulations and congratulation posts meaning for sometime I have been trying to figure what is the problem. So, I put my mind to thinking. With 10 to the power of 197 or 200 depending on which reality I read and realize I am undergoing someone else's reality backwards and that soul had either neither the experience or a story to tell that or those pagesjust disappear . Which is awkward for if I am not the sum of my stories and experiences, then what am I? I mean I can handle that I am not the story teller of my story. God is the story teller, and he tells the story over and over again, and the only change is whether you are a weed of the evil one or a seed of the planter who sowed the seeds. I can understand the results of several stories also, which is awkward which because I shall not experience them in yet I remember them being told and look for those people and no longer can find them nor find what I wrote about them.