Imposter

For the longest time now, I have had these two voices in my head:

One that celebrates my joys with me, that pushes me to be the best version of myself.
One that believes in me and helps me be at peace with the life I have managed to build for myself.
One that sticks with me when things don’t go as I had planned,
One that is proud of me for being who I am.

The other one, a bit louder than the one before, has always shown up uninvited to ask the same question for a long time now:

“Do I belong here after all?
Have I really earned this, or has it always been a happy accident, a fluke, luck by chance?
Have I worked hard enough to be where I am, or am I just another imposter trying to belong with the ones around?”

This is a voice so strong that it makes itself heard even admist all the reassurances and all the applause.
One that feels like a heavy weight tugging at my feet, as if trying to save me from being too happy at all costs.
One that makes even the tiniest of celebrations feel like a sham,
One that makes me doubt who I am.

I do not have an answer to the question, maybe I never will.
Perhaps the other voice in my head is louder only because I favour it?
Maybe I have surprised my younger self with who I have become,
Maybe the voice is a remnant of that younger doubtful self that has always been uncertain of what she will become.