Imposter Syndrome
Noun: a psychological condition that is characterized by persistent doubt concerning one's abilities or accomplishments accompanied by the fear of being exposed as a fraud despite evidence of one's ongoing success.

The face in the mirror stares back at me—mine but not mine. 

He looks tired, but I am not. His hair is unkept but mine is not. 

His face is angry. Disappointed. 

“What are you doing,” he asks. “You know better than this.”

“I’m trying something new,” I tell him. “We needed a change.”

“Why? You know you’re not good at this.” 

“That’s what school is for,” I say. “To learn to be good.”

“You’re wasting money. This won’t amount to anything.”

“You don’t know that.”

He blinks. Slowly.

He speaks. Methodically.

 “You’re right. It will amount to something.”

He holds up a stack of paper, each printed with my words. 

Emotions pour of the paper. They seep from the ink. 

Tiny rivers of thought. They wrap around his wrist and dance in the light. 

He strikes a match. Holds the flame to the corner.

The papers burst into a nightmare.

First red, then ultraviolet, then black. The pile crumbles.

“Ash.” His words are sharp, precise. “It will all amount to ash.” 

“You’re wrong…” I say, no more than a whisper.  

“And haven’t you done this already?”

I run my hands through my hair. 

“This time will be different.” 

“Sure. And in another ten years, you’ll be doing this again. And I’ll be here…”

He grins, all venom.

“…burning another pile of your shit.” 

I punch the mirror, slicing him into a dozen pieces.

And then he’s gone.

And it’s just me. 

But now I look like him. 

-JRL