Dear Alaric

May 12, 1887

Hello. Today, I got a journal. I have known of other girls keeping them. I thought, why not start one of my own. Not that I really have anything interesting to write about. But I do have bad days sometimes. Maybe being able to write it all down will help me work through my thoughts. I am not exactly sure how this works. It seems a little silly to be writing a potential letter to no one. Like I am only writing to myself. Be that as it may, I have decided to name my journal. Your name is now Alaric. This way, it feels like I am writing a letter to a friend. Would be nice if I had an actual friend that I could write to. But I am not so lucky.

People don't really like me. I have trouble fitting in no matter where I go. Mother says it's because the other children in the area aren't real. They aren't human. She says that they are evil spirits that wear ever-changing flesh in order to fool us into thinking they are human. That is the majority of the world. The only real people are the ones in our family. Even the members we have yet to find. Our family is quite large, Alaric. We accept new members if, and only if, they are real. They have to go through several tests first in order to prove their authenticity. Mother says she became a member of the real family before I was born. It is because of that that they know I am authentic. Only by being an authentic and real human can you be a part of the Divinity.

I remember being in grade school, watching the other children play, and wondering how it was that they could mimic humans so well. Mother says it's because they are ancient and old beings that have watched us for a long time. Apparently, they can wear the skins of animals, too. Only humans can truly be Divine, though. While it is nice to be human and to be real, it sure is lonely. It seems like I have been completely alone for my whole life. Not a single friend to speak of in fourteen years. It would have been nice if my parents had more children. I would have liked to have siblings. At least then, I would have permanent friends. Friends that I knew were real. But no. They were only allowed to have children that the Divinity approved of. Each member of our growing family could only have one child, they said.

While I get along with some of the other children in our family, they aren't like the other children I see at school. They aren't as interesting or as fun. At least from what I can see. I usually keep to myself. It is easier that way. These shapeshifters know I am different. They know I must be human. Because they avoid me in most cases and whisper about me in others. You would think that I smell horrible with the way they wrinkle their noses up at me. It is a little hurtful. Even if their opinions don't matter on account of them not being genuine. Still. I want to be liked. I don't want to be alone. I want to have fun like them. They laugh and joke with each other. They play pranks and games with each other. The only time they play games with me is when we have to for school. And even then, they do so reluctantly. I am always chosen last and ignored while they laugh amongst themselves. I am torn between being hurt by it and being thankful that they don't pay me too much attention.

One of them spoke to me before. It was a girl from my class. She asked me before if she could copy my work. I told her that she couldn't copy me. That would be wrong. She got mad at me and said I was weird. I told her it didn't matter what she thought because she wasn't real. She laughed at me. She said that I wasn't real instead. Which made sense. Mother says the shifters are liars and deceivers. They will say anything and everything in order to confuse and manipulate me. But mother says I'm too smart for them. She says I have always had a talent for picking out lies. They can never fool me. They can say that I'm the fake one, but I know. I know they can never be human. No matter how much they wish they could. They'll continue to lash out or ignore me in their jealousy. It's understandable to an extent. I just wish this path didn't have to be so lonely, is all.