The hum of the road, the clutter of the home, and the fog in my mind all converged on this warm July evening. I sat alone on the balcony, sipping tea, thinking: Even if no one reads this, maybe one day I will. So I began to write—something to leave behind, a quiet legacy of thoughts.
I’m still in Bursa Güzelyalı, and this might be the last time I write from this house. Next week, the chaos of moving will begin. I’ve never been the leader in such things—always one of the cogs in the wheel. I’ll do my part, then quietly slip away. I’m tired. Worn out. My soul is craving change.
After work on Friday, I wrapped up some errands and jumped in the car, hoping to clear my head. As always, I kept things simple: a six-pack (just kidding, only one) from the supermarket, a bag of salted peanuts, and a discreet parking spot under a tree where I wouldn’t bother anyone. Headlights off. Music playing softly. Me, scrolling through LinkedIn, trying to shake off the week’s weight. It wasn’t half bad, actually.
As I ran my hand across my face, I felt the stubble I hadn’t shaved in days. Tomorrow’s Monday—I’ll need to tidy up. I checked my calendar. Fewer meetings during the holiday season, but still a few I need to attend. I’ll deal with it in the morning. No need to steal time from the weekend.
Speaking of holidays, I’m glad I didn’t set my hopes too high for a summer getaway this year. The heat, the work, the endless scroll of friends travelling on social media—it’s all a bit much. Not being able to repeat the rituals of past summers stings. But what hurts more is watching dreams slip by, unrealised.
That thought brought me back to last July. Back then, my mind was tangled with questions during morning walks: Will it happen? Will promises be kept? And then, in the first week of August, a piece of good news arrived—unexpected, but deeply welcome. I hope this year brings something just as surprising. If it does, I promise to look back with gratitude.
So let’s live these days fully, without picking and choosing which burdens to carry. Let’s collect memories, so when we listen to podcasts about lives unlived, we won’t feel guilty. Funny how I ended up here...
After my little car ritual, I responsibly disposed of my trash, popped in my earbuds, and headed to the seaside. A five-kilometre walk to stretch out, burn some calories, and hit my daily exercise goal. My favourite podcast (Bu Mu Yani?) kept me company. The latest episode: "Lives We Never Lived". It was a perfect match for my mood—a chance to reflect. Did I find any answers? Not really. But being on the journey, especially when you can feel the sweat on your back, is something in itself.
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