Mountaintops summoned me, but her empty promises only led to endless valleys.
“Please, Atticus,” she breathed into my chest. Her eyes shimmered with effervescent tears that flowed towards my lips. I yearned for her sparkling kisses and ethereal embrace.
I heard the term float around, but never felt it actually applied to me. “Impostor Syndrome.” It made sense, the idea of self-doubt, as it was something that was very familiar to me. I didn’t ever think about feeling like an impostor, though. That word seemed like it had intention, and implied some sort of purposeful deceit. Therefore, the thought of being an “impostor” was foreign to me, as excessive honesty, sometimes to my detriment, was my number one value.
Once I got promoted at my new job, the feelings of doubt began to set in. Thoughts like, I must be putting on a good front, nobody knows what a mess I am, soon they will realize that I’m not all that great, and even they only promoted me because of my looks.