It is a part of being human to feel, to believe, that the things we experience are unique to us. Even though we know that this isn’t necessarily so, our point of view puts us dead centre in our experience. It is natural, then, that we feel uniquely defined by the thoughts in our minds. As if they’ve never occurred to another soul. It is natural then, that we look wistfully at what we see in others. Experiences shown, unbound by feelings of internal turmoil. While comparing them to our own experiences as they are weighted down by insecurities and failure.

Imposter syndrome is a common enough concept by now. I’ve seen the comics and have often been able to laugh at my interpretation of myself or my work compared to others. These days though I see my own work and my own talents as lesser than. When I upload a drawing of mine (I refuse to call it art) to the internet, looking for that often sought validation, I don’t see it as being an imposter at all. Instead I feel like that guy at the party who is telling too tall tales that everyone can see right through from the first word. To call it an imposter would be giving it too much credit entirely.

I know this is temporary. And I know it is my minds doing. I know this because a week ago, or days ago, I didn’t feel this way about my skills or talents. But today I feel lacking in every type of skill or qualification. Even in the very characteristics one needs in order to achieve a higher level of any type of skill.

The feeling this imposter syndrome is imposing on me, might just be a lie. Maybe I’m not the imposter, but Imposter Syndrome is.