Today I woke, and to my shock, I was back in my bed. It was shocking for the pure reason that try as I might, I simply can not recall ever coming back home. I can not recall what transpired over the last day in its entirety, and I had to check the dates many times due to my disbelief that I had once more lost a complete day to nothingness.
My last memory was that of travelling to the bay and arriving, only to begin my search of the area.
I am sure that I must have gone there, however, since there is sand tracked into the house and some odd stains on my bed. They appear to be water stains, but I can not be sure.
It is clear that whatever is happening is something that I no longer can take for granted.
I have torn all the pages out of my memoirs starting from the date that Twilight arrived at my house, and I am now keeping them here in my room. I am also, from this point on, going to keep record of everything that has happened to me day by day in the hopes that it will allow my own activities to be laid more bare to myself.
I also found the letter, again, this morning at 10 AM, lying on my dresser top. I have no memory of mailing nor keeping it. But I am holding it here in my hoof at this very moment, and it seems to be mired considerably, as if it had been doused in water and dried.
It is clear something is preventing me from sending out this letter, and something is stealing my memories. But there are always other ways to accomplish the same thing.
If I cannot send a letter, then I shall go in person. I will leave now for the train station.