Some days, imposter syndrome feels all too real. Sometimes, I’m convinced I have it; other days, I wonder if it’s just another buzzword I picked up. I feel like a fool, a fake, a fraud — take your pick. Or maybe I’m just unwell. Either way, I’m not sure who I am anymore — or maybe I never knew. Or was I just lying to myself again? I’ve forgotten what it feels like to write, even though I do it every day... or do I just force myself to? I don’t even know what I like or dislike anymore, but my friends seem to remember for me. At least, that’s what I tell them. At least I have my hobbies, or are they just routines I’m stuck in? I don’t know anymore. But I do have people who love me, or at least the ones I convince myself do.