The open book of Danny: ask me anything

Since the age of three, I have thought of myself as Atlas. It's what I was called in the bulk of the things I could remember at the time. It still is now, almost 40 years later 🤦🏻‍♂️😅🤷🏻‍♂️. I didn't really share it with people much till recent years. When I was a child, I figured that people would reach the same conclusion that I had reached by the time I was 4. That I was insane. By that point, surely, whether my 'memories' were real or not. Both can be aspects of truth. However at the time I would always make jokes alluding to such things. I studied everything I could get my hands on from the time I was three onwards trying to disprove them, because there was a lot there I wasn't happy with (talk about generational trauma 😬😅). I never could. I couldn't prove them either. Both the lives I remember would have taken place before we developed writing again, but ancient mythology lines up pretty well to be interpreted as a sensationalized, or misinterpreted re-telling of 'actual events' (according to my 'memories' )in most cases😅🤷🏻‍♂️. It's too much to go in to here. It's too much for a series of novels. Most times it's too much for me 😞🤦🏻‍♂️. By the time I started school I was convinced of their veracity though, as far as I could trust myself, knowing for certain I was insane. I tested on a second year college level when I was 7. People always said I was a genius. I'd always laugh and say "no, I'm just close enough to a certain thin line to glance across occasionally". I don't care what people think. As long as they're thinking, I'll count that as a win🙃. Nowadays, most people I share it with take it as a joke, because I still phrase things in a comical manner 😅. The people who have always known me, still trust me for my expertise, my skills, and my wisdom, as they always have. 🤷🏻‍♂️