OUTFITS
 

Thoughts on 2017

Thoughts on 2017

 

.

happy new year folks!

.

I had a great night, for a couple of hours at least, on the last day of 2016, a shitty year for so many reasons that I won’t go in detail in this sentence. I cooked dinner to my friends, who were all very polite not to point out that my curry chicken was actually cold, and that the potatoes and veggies at the side didn’t really tasted that good. But at least I tried. We were happy. We drank wine. We laughed. We kissed and hugged each other.

.

1:30 came and my friend who must have been a bit bored from the Taboo we were winning against the guys, was scrolling through her news feed and shouted: There was a shooting at Reina. Silence. The card was put down to the table. More silence. Every hand grabbed another phone. Speechless. Looking around. Our brains filled with so much rage and hatred and sadness at once, that we just had to stood, not moving for a couple of seconds as we were trying to process this. I haven’t been able to process it even now. I’ve been having scenarios over my head, my first vivid nightmares, with constantly checking the news and making sure my loved ones are still alive.

.

I’ve spent a lot of time at Reina. Growing up in a rich kids’ school, and very spoiled and privileged by my parents; I never hesitated to go out with my girlfriends, get drunk, and dance like crazy at night clubs. Even with a fake ID. I celebrated my prom there, countless birthdays, sipped more alcohol than I probably should’ve and texted my mom billions of times that I was okay and we’d get out of the club pretty soon so she could sleep. But on the 1st of January, 2017, it was bombed. With an AK-47. One of the most beautiful places in Istanbul, Ortaköy, looking over the Bosphorus and the luminous city lights, I don’t question why more than a 1000 people would pick Reina as the place to enter 2017. Because it’s their right to have fun. It’s their privilege and their basic right to exist in that moment, with their loved ones, and countdown to 2017, holding hands.

.

Many news came after the attacks, I should’ve known, as me and my 4 guests stayed pretty late, scrolling down our news feeds. Some say it’s a terrorist attack, that the people with the AK-47s spoke Arabic, that they were dressed as Santa Claus. I don’t get furious anymore. I became senseless to their mocking, their lack of humanity. And I don’t hate these people. Because they do what they think is right, or necessary. We all have our reasons. I don’t hate them, but I hate their reasons, their motives, their perspectives, their lack of questioning, their actions. I don’t blame them. I blame the people, the governments, the figures behind these people that make these attacks happen. These people let these pawns do the attacks, take lots of innocent lives without a blink of an eye.

.

I have dreams. I want to finish my studies here and do my masters. I want to settle down. I want to have kids. I want to grow old. I want to help people. I want to keep on singing from the top of my lungs. I want to travel the world. But I feel like I won’t be able to. I feel like the next bomb will take my life, my existence and the happiness and sanity of my loved ones. I feel like if I don’t go from this country right this moment, I won’t be able to survive another month? week? day? hour? I don’t know anymore. But I’m afraid. I have this constant fear towards being in a crowded place, this fear that I will woke up with a phone call from someone, saying someone we know is dead. Being in the Netherlands was the best 6 months I ever had. Because I felt safe. Even though I was completely on my own, I had no one with me that I know. But I was safe. I’d read about the bombs from hundred miles away, do regular Skype calls with my family and that’d be it. I didn’t need to worry about my life. That’s all I do right now.

.

.

I love my country. The heritage, the culture, the historical monuments, the street arts, the Bosphorus, the art; everything. I’ve traveled across Europe and America, and a teeny tiny part of Africa, and I can say that Turkey is richer than many of the places I’ve seen. I love this country. I do. But I never felt like I’ve belonged here. Never. And that’s just sad and it still has a huge impact on my identity as I’m writing these lines, but this is the sad truth. I don’t like my people. I simply don’t. And I don’t want to be seen as the same or stereotyped to, a Turkish person, as racist as that sounds. So whenever a foreigner asks me where I’m from, I just laugh and ask: “Have a guess”, pushing back the answer and that weird feeling that comes with it, for a couple of more seconds.

.

I don’t know who to blame anymore. If I could blame anyone. I guess the fault is on all of us. On you, on me, on everyone and no one. But I know just one thing for sure: that I, that we, can not go on living like this. Trapped in a corner. With anxiety attacks. With worries that cause headaches. We just can’t.

.

.

2016 was a shitty year for so many reasons, and I can genuinely hope that 2017 will be better. I know many things will never change and probably go worse, but a girl can dream, right? That’s how I stay sane, you should try it sometime.

.

Sorry if this post was not what you expected, but I had to write something. Hope you all had a wonderful start to the year and that this year will bring nothing but peace, joy, laughter, love and health to you and to your loved ones. Stay safe x

.

*Yazması çok zor bir post oldu, Türkçesini de yazmaya kalkarsam ağlamaya başlarım gibi geliyor. Google translate kullanarak çeviri yapmanızı rica edeceğim.

Eda G
roomxcv@gmail.com