I got this thing, this offer. Like, the big one. Tenure track. After all this time, all those years of adjuncting, piecing together classes, driving to three different campuses sometimes just to make rent. You know how it is out here, not exactly a lot of options if you wanna stay near… well, near home. Near the folks. So yeah, it’s a big deal. Everyone around here thinks it’s great. My mom called, practically sobbing, saying “Finally, son, you’re settled.” And I just… felt nothing. Like, zero. The thing is, the research they’re so impressed with? The stuff that apparently put me over the top? It was all, like, just a series of flukes. Honest to god. I remember doing that one paper, the one that got all the buzz, you know, the one about the regional agricultural practices, and I just kinda… guessed. Threw some numbers together, made an educated statement, and then BAM. It was like I hit the jackpot. Got cited in fancy journals, got invited to that symposium, even had some bigwig from the city call me “a refreshing new voice.” And I just nodded and smiled, trying to look smart, while inside I was thinking, “Did I just… make that up?” It kept happening. Every time I’d get stuck, every time I thought I was about to be found out, something would just… happen. A new data set would appear, a grant would come through for something totally unrelated but it had the numbers I needed, a colleague would casually mention something that just FIT. It felt less like intellectual rigor and more like the universe was just… handing me answers. Like I was sleepwalking through it, and everyone else thought I was doing something brilliant. It’s like when I was a kid and I got that blue ribbon for the pumpkin I grew, but my neighbor was the one who actually watered it. Everyone was so proud, and I just… stood there. So now I’ve got this offer letter sitting on my kitchen table, right next to the pile of seed catalogs. And I know I should feel relieved, I should feel happy, I should feel like all that hustling finally paid off. But instead, it’s just this hollow feeling. Like I’m waiting for someone to knock on the door, someone from the committee, and they’ll look at me with that serious face and say, “We made a mistake.” And then I’ll have to explain that, no, actually, the mistake was mine all along. That I just got lucky. REAL lucky. Too lucky. And then what? What do I say? “Surprise, my entire academic career is built on a house of cards?” I mean, it's not like I INTENDED to fool anyone. It just kinda… happened. And now I’m here, with this opportunity that everyone else would kill for, and all I can think about is how they’re gonna realize I’m a fraud. How this whole thing is going to unravel, and I’ll be back to square one, but with a much, MUCH bigger fall. And honestly, it just feels… inevitable. Like it's always been leading to this, you know? Just waiting for the shoe to drop. Always waiting.