I sometimes think I’ve made a terrible mistake. On paper, my life looks perfectly respectable: I have a university degree, I work at a modern IT company, and my position is technically stable. People would probably say I should be grateful. But the truth is, every morning when I sit down at my desk, surrounded by glowing monitors, jargon-filled meetings, and colleagues who thrive in this fast, digital environment, I feel like an imposter. I don’t belong in this world, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t convince myself otherwise.
I don’t work on the technical side. My job is non-technical—administrative, organizational, supportive. Still, in a place like this, even those roles seem soaked in the tech culture. Everyone speaks in acronyms I don’t understand, they get excited about frameworks and systems I’ve never heard of, and they move through this world like it’s second nature. Meanwhile, I smile, nod, and pretend. I tell myself, act like you know what you’re doing, because if I stop pretending, I’ll drown.
The pretending has become exhausting. I put on this professional mask every day, trying to look like I fit in, trying to sound like I understand, trying to act like I’m motivated by the same goals. But inside, I’m disconnected. I don’t want to climb the ladder, I don’t want to lead projects or chase some flashy career path. What I want is something simple, something ordinary—like working in a bookstore, where the smell of paper fills the air, or in a boutique, where human interaction feels genuine. I imagine myself behind a counter, arranging books on a shelf, or folding clothes, greeting customers with a smile. A small, stable, honest job that doesn’t require me to pretend to be someone I’m not.
And yet, the fear holds me back. I worry about what people would say if I left this “respectable” job for something so modest. Would they think I wasted my education? Would they laugh at me for stepping down from an office with glass walls to a shop with fluorescent lights? Sometimes, I hear the judgment in my own head, echoing the expectations of society: You should be more ambitious. You should want more. You should make the most of your degree. Those voices make me feel trapped, as if I’m carrying a burden that isn’t even mine.
But in my heart, I know the truth. The IT world is not for everyone. It’s certainly not for me. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe there’s a quiet kind of courage in admitting you don’t want the glamorous path, in choosing peace of mind over prestige. Still, I hesitate, caught between the life I think I should want and the life I actually long for. Every day feels like a balancing act between my mask and my reality, and I wonder how long I can keep pretending before something inside me finally gives way.