I recently realized something after a couple conversations with Shakir- or, more accurately, something I already “knew” finally hit me. Comparison really is the thief of joy, and if you’re not careful, it’ll rob you at gunpoint and then hold you hostage.
Shakir is someone I compare myself to a lot. Full ride at NYU, always dressed to the absolute nines, and seems to have a great social life. His image is almost perfect- very glamorous, very luxe. This is genuinely no shade, it’s something I actually really admire about him, but the reality is: he struggles to get out of bed most days, he’s unhappy with the direction he’s going in, he has issues with friends and romance. Hell, he’s currently staying in an Airbnb in a bad part of the city because he’s literally homeless right now.
That last part was jarring. It obviously did not make me feel better, but it did feel like it made something click.
A lot of the people I see as “perfect” and ruin my mood by comparing myself to are actually a total mess in real life. I once knew a girl who, based on her social media, seemed very confident… until I took a picture with her and watched her spend ten minutes meticulously photoshopping her fingers. Ten minutes. On fingers. Most of these people are just really good at curating the illusion, which is honestly a skill I need to develop. Seriously, not every thought or problem needs to be shared or discussed.
During my conversation with Shakir, I also realized that it’s fine to not be the perfect image I have in my head. Or at least it should be. I don’t mean this in an envious or depressing way, and I definitely don’t want to minimize anyone else’s struggles, but the truth is that a lot of the people I compare myself to have really just lived easier lives. I am underprivileged- I’m queer in the Middle East, I don’t have family support, I don’t have the time or money to move at the pace I want to, I deal with addiction and mental health issues. Yeah, you could argue that some of it is my fault- after all, nobody’s actually forcing me to pick up the bottle- but really, how much of this is just the inevitable outcome of the hand I was dealt?
I hate saying this, but I feel like I’m so behind, and that’s because I am behind. I had to put my life on pause for years while everything around me was collapsing. Despite that, I was able to somewhat rebuild myself from a place most people wouldn’t have made it out of. No, I’m unfortunately not where I planned to be, but at least I’m miles away from where I should’ve ended up.
Sometimes it helps to remember that 18-year-old me wouldn’t believe that I could ever hold down a full-time job, probably because he didn’t think he’d even make it past 19. The bar was (and still is) in hell, but day by day, I’ve been slowly lifting it, building the foundation for a future that I can say I’m pleased with, while the world around me keeps trying to kick it back down. I should really start appreciating myself more, wow.
Anyway, I thought I’d reached the calm after the storm, but now it seems like it was just a break in the wind.
I was doing great cutting back on drinking these past couple weeks. And then this week happened- total disaster. I’m back to blacking out almost every night. For the first time ever, I actually missed work by two hours. At first I thought I was just so exhausted that I had slept through my alarms. Then I realized my phone wasn’t charged. Then I realized I never even set alarms. And then I realized I have no memory of anything past 4am. This happened again the very next day, but I was only fifteen minutes late, so.. progress, I guess.
Also, Jason is flirting with me again.
He leaned down and whispered, “Ameer, your piercings make me so wet.” This was supposedly him imitating what someone else would say if they saw me, but… come on. We all know that came from your heart. Like, that’s what you’re saying to me, right now. The next day he kept asking to compare our hand sizes, and while telling my friends about all of this, I remembered the time he asked if I spit or swallow- and genuinely wanted my answer. Also when he whispered that he wanted to bite my nipples. I hate to say it, but it’s kind of really hot. I would absolutely get with him and I wish I could entertain it.
However, there is one minor, inconvenient detail: he is currently dating my literal sister.
It makes everything feel weirdly incestual. My relationship with my sister is basically two roommates who just happen to share DNA, so yes, if he ever actually made a move, I would definitely hook up with him. Deeply unhinged sentence to write, but it’s true.