#00254: Break.

This post is as raw as it gets.

I’m currently sitting in a cafe near my home in Doha, Qatar.
It has been almost 90 days since 4 countries made up of thin glass decided to throw Qatar with stones. #Idiots
I’ll leave that to the politicians to handle. I’ve got my own shit to worry about.

It’s been more than a week since I OD’d. I’m not bragging about it, but I have to remind myself that my addiction has reached a serious level – a dangerous level.
I OD’d while my baby girl was crying. Instead of being there for her, I was too selfish to realize there were people who love me; people who need me.

I don’t love myself, therefore I can’t understand being loved by someone else.
I don’t believe in myself, hence why I don’t believe it when someone else complements me.
I hate myself – I’ve always hated myself – so I don’t understand what it’s like to be loved and cared about.

I don’t know about other addicts – yes, I admit I’m powerless over drugs and my life has become unmanageable – but when I get high, all I imagine is being on that fucking stage.
What stage? The stage I’m standing on to be praised, loved, admired, appreciated, acknowledged, approved, accepted and applauded.
An imaginary stage where my existence is being immortalized for doing something worthwhile – I will always be remembered, like Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and Einstein before me.
My name will never be forgotten.

I can blame my environment for my faults; I can sit down for hours and whine to a therapist that my parents made me who I am today, that I’m scared of this or worried about that.
But it’s all me. It’s all in my head. This illusion we call life is dependent on perspective, which in turn is dependent on your thoughts – a circle that’s dependent 100% on your thoughts.
I hate to admit it, but it’s the truth: I choose to believe in my weaknesses, shun away my strengths, too scared to face my own version of life, too anxious to not be remembered.

So, what now? A fucking break. 
You know, when I started this blog, a part of me wanted to be famous ASAP. I’d just dropped out of Med school with only 2 years left to go. I’d lost the only purpose I had in life.
And I’ve been fucking myself ever since. Yes, I fucked myself because I was no longer a soon-to-be doctor.

But I think it’s time I say it with all the love I can summon: Fuck you.
I don’t mean you aka the stranger who reached this far into this post.
No. I’m saying fuck you to the imaginary world I’ve been trying so hard to impress – the world I wanted to save, the world I wanted to be immortalized by.

It’s time to take a break. For how long? for as long it takes to stop looking for your approval – and I’m addressing you, dear stranger.
It’s time to really focus on myself – the self I’ve neglected in pursuit of immortality.

This not the end of a phase or a chapter. I’m closing down this book and starting a new one.
I’m not running away from my past. On the contrary, actually, I’m walking towards you with the confidence I’ve been too scared to embrace.
The confidence of a Med-school dropout
The confidence of a want-to-write-a-book dreamer
The confidence of a once-fit, now-fat, too-scared-to-face-the-world, too-many-hyphens-using human.
The confidence of someone who admits that his past was his choice, so is his present and future.

Thank you for reading this, dear stranger. Until next time, stay safe and look after your loved ones.
Trust me, someone out there loves you more than you think, and it should be the beautiful human you see behind the mirror.

With Love,
Khalid aka FatBoy89,
Saturday September 2nd 2017

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