I’ve decided to begin investigation to uncover whether or not I am truly human. And yes, I’m aware of how ridiculous I sound.
      The first relevant piece of evidence I can think of is my birth certificate. My parents keep all official documents in a fireproof box under my father’s desk. My father is usually working there, so I’ll have to find a way to draw him away so I can investigate. Technically, I could just tell him I want to see my birth certificate, but he’d certainly ask why, and frankly I’d prefer not to stare my father in the eyes and tell him I suspect I’m an otherworldly creature. So I’ll be taking Route 007 instead, going full super spy.
      I don’t know what I expect to find, honestly. Name: Me, Sex: F, Species: Not Quite? I don’t know what I’ll find, but I can’t think of anything else.
      Because this case is so embarrassing, I started a whole other journal for it. If you’ve found it, you’ve been sneaking under my bed, you jerk. Put it back.
      Time to investigate. I feel like Batman.

      I did not end up having to draw my father away, as he went out with some friends the night after my previous entry. My arrival into his study was successful, but my initial attempt to open the box of official documents under his desk was not. Apparently those things can lock. Fortunately, anything that locks has a key, and this one was in a random drawer. I opened the box and rifled through the contents, careful not to damage or misplace anything. It wasn’t organized at all, or at least not in a way I could see. I was nearly at the back of the box when I spotted the words Birth Certificate and was promptly interrupted by my mother. She yelled at me for messing with the documents. I tried to look at the certificate, but she wouldn’t let me. Suspicious. Or maybe she was just really mad.
      Nevertheless, I did not get to look at my birth certificate. I’ll have to try again. In like a week. I still feel bad that my mom yelled at me.

      I lost my normal diary so I’m going to rant to you. My baby brother hates me. He won’t let me hold him, and he won’t stop crying when I’m around. Maybe it’s because I’m Not Quite. The kid’s been alive three months and hasn’t let me near him for longer than ten minutes. It’s so weird. My parents are angry because I can’t babysit him. One of my friends from school came over today to sit him. It was so awkward.

      Found my normal diary today. It was under a hairbrush. Yeah, I don’t know either. Anyway.
      The next step in my investigation is to ask my friends from school if I have an uncanny valley vibe. I should probably write all these steps down so I can have them all in one place, but I’m not going to, because I’m making it up as I go.
      I asked the three other members of my friend group, but since I don’t have their permission, I won’t include their names. And I didn’t ask their permission because I don’t want them to think I’m crazy.
      Their responses were as follows:
      Me: Do I have a weird vibe?
      Friend #1: Uhhh…a little? But like, not in a bad way. You’re like, cool-creepy.
      Me: Ha, that’s our whole group.
      Friend #1: Yeah. But you’re different. I dunno how to say it. It’s not like, bad though.
     
      Me: Do I have a weird vibe?
      Friend #2: Whatya mean?
      Me: Like, uncanny valley? We were talking about it the other day, how some people and stuff have the vibe. Do I?
      Friend #2: A little, I guess. Why?
      Me: Just curious.
      Friend #2: You’re a little weird, but so are we. That ain’t new information.
     
      Me: Do I have a weird vibe?
      Friend #3: Sure. Why?
      Me: Just curious. What kind of…
      Friend #3: Like twilight. Not the book series, but the time of day. Like the woods at sunset.
      Me: Like, dangerous?
      Friend #3: *they think* I suppose. Scary, but also, like, elegant. Does that make sense?
      Me: Interesting. Thanks.
      Friend #3: Remember how my cat freaked out when you came over that one time? She never does that, and she hasn’t since. Y’know, cats are supposed to be able to sense ghosts and the supernatural.
      Me: So you think I’m a ghost?
      Friend #3: *in deadpan* Exactly. You’ve been dead twenty years. I’ve been waiting to tell you.
 
      I wanted to ask strangers, but that’s not really the kind of question you can ask a stranger. Maybe if I figure out a way to do it casually. My friends just take these kinds of questions in stride. Also, I’m sorry I said the word “vibe” so many times.
      The conclusion I draw from these responses is that I do have an uncanny valley vibe (sorry again!). My friends don’t mind it, but it’s probably why other than my friends, no one really talks to me. Which sounds really sad, but I promise I’m too introverted to care.
      So here’s the evidence I have so far.
1.      My mom wouldn’t let me see my birth certificate.
2.    My baby brother doesn’t like me.
3.    I have a weird vibe.
      Truly, I am Batman incarnate.

      This morning I babysat the sibling of one of my friends. I asked them about my vibe. Children are usually much less unnerved by the socially abnormal, so I didn’t think they’d mind. They wrinkled their brow at the question and responded with, “What’s a vibe?”
      After I stumbled through an explanation that utilized both my entire lexicon and a googled definition, the kid told me yes. To quote, they said, “Um, not to me, but Katy says you creep her out.” Katy was their imaginary friend. I took that as a polite yes.
      The kid went and got a drawing of theirs, eerily drawn with only black and gray markers. “Katy drew this picture of you,” they told me. I kept the picture for evidence, and also because I find myself incapable of refusing gifts from children. This kid especially. They’re my favorite child.
      Frankly, I’m flattered by “Katy’s” drawing of me. I think I look fabulous. Unfortunately, I did lose the drawing. Sorry.

      I had a weird dream last night. Normally I’d write this in my regular journal, but it’s relevant to the investigation, I promise. I dreamed I was standing on a still gray ocean, reflecting a gray sky. Like, my feet were planted on the water’s surface. Like my weight wouldn’t break the surface tension. I looked at my hands, but they looked like doll hands. I could move them and stuff, but they didn’t look real. Is that what the uncanny valley effect feels like? I heard a voice and it said “I know you’re curious, but stop looking.”
      I don’t know what it could mean other than the investigation. So that’s weird. Plus, the voice sounded fake too. Halfway between a bot reading from a screen and a crow imitating a human. Admittedly concerning. But I’ve been thinking so much about the investigation as of late, the dream was probably just a conglomeration of my recent memories and thoughts. That’s what dreams usually are, right?
      It’s not weird that I’m freaked out about this, right?
      Update on my brother: he still hates me. He always calms down when my mom sings to him. No offense to my mom, but my singing voice is better than hers—she’s said so herself—so why does mine only freak him out?
      Update on my friend’s cat: they brought her over so I could petsit her when they’re out of town the next few days. Cat hates me too. I looked it up, and yeah, it’s a popular urban legend that cats can sense the supernatural. My parents have to take care of her and my brother because they both hate me so much. I feel so bad.

I swear to God I’m not insane

      If you can’t tell, I’m a little nervous about the way this has been going. It was interesting at first, but it’s getting kinda weird now. The dream was totally just a dream, right? And there’s no way cats can sense the supernatural? And my baby brother hates me because

      Sorry I’ve been weird as of late. I mean, I’m always weird. You knew what you were getting into when you picked up my journal. Speaking of; put it back, you jerk.
      Anyway. I’ve been nervous. I tried to find my birth certificate again today, and I succeeded. It had my name, sex, and all the normal stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. I’m human.
      I returned the cat when my friend came back from their trip. Cat warmed up to me after a few days, but still wouldn’t let me touch him most of the time. That may be a normal cat thing, though. I’m gonna look it up.
      Update: it is a normal cat thing.

      Sometimes I wish I wasn’t writing this in pen. Whatever.
      I don’t really have anything new to write. I can’t think of anything new to investigate. I don’t even know if I want to anymore. I wish I’d never done this in the first place. I’m scared  

      I didn’t think I’d ever write in here again. I thought I was completely done with Not Quites. But something monumental happened today, and I have to record it somewhere. I can’t write it in my normal diary because it doesn’t feel safe anymore.
      Earlier, I opened my normal diary to write in it, and it flipped directly to the next blank page, but on it was a message I’d never written.
      “Thank you for stopping. We’re almost ready. Don’t touch the page until you’re done reading. It doesn’t exist.”
      Obviously I touched the page. It didn’t crumble, or disappear, or anything like that. It just—it’d never existed. It had never existed in the first place. Just in my brain.
      Something really weird is going on. I’ve been feeling these slight...presences? Near me, a lot. I didn’t think it was a thing, really—my imagination, probably. Or just my brain overreacting to the weirdness. But every time I feel the presences, I feel at peace. Relaxed. It’s…nice, I guess. I probably shouldn’t think that, but I do. It’s nice. They understand me.
      Or maybe I’m being brainwashed.
      Somehow I don’t think I am. But brainwash victims rarely do, do they? I’m so confused. What are they ready for? What’s going to happen? Why aren’t I scared? Frankly, I’m terrified of the fact that I’m not scared at all. If that makes any sense. Probably not. I’m going to put the pen down now and go to sleep. Maybe I’m dreaming right now and I’ll wake up and everything will be fine.
      It won’t. And I know it.

      The presences are getting stronger. Overpowering sometimes. It’s only been a week since I started feeling them and already they feel stronger than my own. Even so, I’m still not scared. And I’m so, so scared that I’m not scared. Which likely makes even less sense now than it did the first time I wrote it. I’m probably just getting more and more paranoid. It can’t all be in my head, though—this is insane.
      I stopped investigating like the dream said. But maybe I should keep going? I mean, if they wanted me to stop, maybe I should disobey them.
      But what do I investigate at this point?
      The presences are getting stronger. I just felt another, and I had to stop writing until it went away. I don’t want it to know what I’m doing. Still, it’s nice.

      My brother cries even harder when the presences are around, but he’s stopped crying around me when I’m alone. Finally. This morning I held him for the first time since the day he was born. I cried.

      Brother won’t stop crying again. It’s been days. He won’t sleep for more than an hour at a time and barely eats. I can’t feel any presences. Does he hate me again, or is somethin