May 21
It has been one day since I accepted everything. My second day back in Turkey.
I don’t want to rush this. I want to write slowly. There is a lot on my mind, and perhaps things will become even clearer as I go. I felt the need to write because I have a feeling I will be living with this emotion for quite some time. For now, that’s all I know.
Maybe what I want to talk about isn’t love at all.
Lately, there has been a realization wandering around in my mind. Looking back at my past relationships—or really, any experience I’ve had—I feel as though I never sat down to reflect on them. As if I never truly learned from them. Perhaps I could have drawn more meaning from those experiences and taken more conscious steps forward. Instead, it feels like I simply lived through events and left everything behind the moment they ended.
This time feels different.
I observe what happens. More importantly, I observe myself. I can feel it. Even now, as I write these words, it feels as though I am watching my body from the outside. As if the thoughts in my mind are being transferred into a separate being, and that being is the one writing these lines.
Maybe that’s why this breakup feels strange.
I kept asking myself whether it felt bad, but I never wanted to define it that way. It feels strange—or whatever it is that I’m feeling—because I am aware that I have changed. Not only am I aware of it, I can feel it. I am living it. And somehow that turns into the thought: “Yes, I’ve changed. Then why didn’t it change anything?”
But how could the other person ever truly know that?
Words are never enough. There is no perfect sentence.
I feel quiet. Very quiet.
A heavy silence.
I’ve watched shows, played games, worked, yet none of it managed to overpower this feeling. That’s why I’m writing. It helps. By letting things out, I somehow discover more noise within myself.
I truly wanted it.
More than anything I have ever wanted before.
I feel a little restless, a little unsettled. I don’t think I’m mourning the person I lost. Rather, I’m grieving the fact that my feelings—despite being so strong, despite wanting something so deeply—couldn’t find a place to belong.
I honestly don’t believe there was anything I could have done better. And I don’t sit around thinking, “If only I had done this differently.”
After a breakup, what hurts isn’t the other person’s absence.
That sudden sadness that arrives when you least expect it, the longing that catches you off guard—it is rarely about the person themselves.
What truly hurts is the loss of the future you imagined with them.
The dreams you built.
The life you hoped would happen.
When you’re willing to risk everything, when you know how much you would have done for someone, and yet those feelings simply don’t hold the same meaning for them—that is where the pain comes from.
Because life is one great uncertainty.
And when you finally feel like you’ve found direction, when you can almost see the road ahead, uncertainty stops bothering you.
Then a breakup comes and takes it all away.
And suddenly, you’re lost again.
Yet strangely enough, I’m happy that I was able to feel something like this.
It feels beautiful.
As if I am the entire universe. As if I am moving through an endless field of green, skipping and dancing across a landscape whose horizon never comes into view.
Maybe it’s because it remained unfinished.
But unfinished according to whom?
Does life even have a final period?
A final destination?
Just because something doesn’t end the way you hoped it would doesn’t mean it was left incomplete.
Sometimes it is simply over, no matter how unfinished it feels to you.
And even if two people find their way back to each other, it isn’t a continuation.
It’s a new beginning.
At least, that’s how it was for me.
I was myself.
And that felt good.
I hold no resentment toward anyone. I regret nothing.
Everything happens.
Everything arrives where it is meant to arrive.
The one thought that keeps returning, again and again, is that I truly wanted it.
And that means a great deal to me.
I want to end with a quote:
“No one can act beyond their consciousness.”
So perhaps the best thing we can offer each other is understanding