The imposter syndrome is the bane of my existence.
Some days, that voice in my head tells me I’m not good enough. It says I’m an imposter. As if, at any point, someone will rip off the mask I’m wearing and see right through me.
I feel as though some people already see through my act. And they’re too kind to say anything about it.
I’ve been writing for a long time, and I’ve written a lot of words in my life. I strive to write every day and I do.
I’m still afraid. I’m so scared. I don’t want to wonder whether or not I’m wasting my time.
Through hard work, I can improve and get better. Talent will only get you so far, after all.
One reason why the imposter syndrome has hit me especially hard as of late is my grades. My GPA.
I don’t obsess over school as much as I used to. Thankfully. My sanity is grateful. But I care a lot about doing well.
Growing up, academia was the one thing I excelled at. As a kid, I was anything but athletically gifted or artistic. But I loved reading. I learned to write well.
I’m still doing just fine in university. My standards are set way too high for my own good sometimes.
It should be enough that I’m doing my best, but imposter syndrome is rearing its ugly head again.