There were certain things I expected in my twenties — rent, heartbreak, the realisation that spinach wilts faster than my enthusiasm for meal prep. What I didn’t expect was how permanent imposter syndrome would become: it’s always on, whispering that I don’t belong. And yes, that’s dramatic. But the irony? It’s also completely wrong. At work, as someone very new to journalism, it hits hardest.  I sit in meetings and wonder if everyone else knows I have no experience. My inter