Zekeriya Guser – Captivated conductor of my very own extraordinary journey.

It’s damn near four in the morning, and I’m staring out the window into the dark abyss. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t feel. Don’t want to think, don’t want to shout, don’t want to cry. Clinging to the desperate hope that scribbling a few lines might be my cure. It’s like buying a Christmas pudding for two in April, as if it could remedy the loneliness.

I reach for a bottle of wine, only to discover I’m lacking a bottle opener. Attempting to sail a boat with no paddle—sure, it’s possible, there are ways. But I don’t fancy drinking anymore; I’ve had my fill, and it’s abundantly clear it doesn’t help.

So, what’s a man to do in the dead of night? Walk it off? Will these feelings just slide off my feet as I trudge along? Hit the gym and lift some weights? Can I lift these burdens off my shoulders? Doubtful. But the honest truth is, I don’t want to deal with them either.

So, I might as well hammer the cork into the wine bottle, down it, head to the gym, and hoist some weights. I may not feel any better afterward, but at least deep down inside, I’ll know I tried. Maybe not successful, but I tried. Anyone can point fingers at me for not succeeding, but at least I can’t blame myself because I made an attempt. And it’s me who’ll criticize me the most.