The skull sat in the display case, older than anything I’d ever touch, but it still felt closer than my own reflection. Sixty-five years of arguments, dating methods, names that changed every few years—none of it ever felt settled. I used to think the next paper would finally close the case. Now I just hope the reviewers don’t laugh me out of the room. I scroll through the new findings—uranium-series dating, 277,000 years minimum. Another number to memorize, another lineage to redraw. I can’t remember the last time I felt sure about anything. My advisor says, “Science is about uncertainty.” But I think it’s about exhaustion. I keep telling myself I care about the truth. But most days, I just want to stop feeling like a fraud in front of these bones. #Science #ScienceFatigue #ImposterInTheRoom