I am Burak

A traveller who carries both heaven and hell within, never fully in the light, never entirely in the dark. I made peace with my demons, stitched my own wounds with my own hands. I became familiar with the weight of life, yet I remained vigilant, for life has never offered me anything easily. Deep within my soul, I am a wanderer, a guardian of a path that never truly leads anywhere.

I became the faithful guardian of the grand gates of Limbo. Never fully here, never fully there, always lingering at the threshold. I could neither leave nor stay. I was lost in departures, erased in arrivals. Years passed, roads changed, faces blurred, yet the emptiness within me remained the same. No one noticed; not even I could fully comprehend it. But there was a void inside my heart, one that nothing could ever fill.

I existed in my lover’s secret world, in her most private moments, yet I always remained on the edge. I stood just a step away, unable to fully enter, unable to completely walk away. Love never offered me peace. The warmth promised to me slipped like a dream through my fingers. I knew what it meant to be loved, yet I could never truly remain within it. Longing became my companion, and yearning never ceased.

Every day, I watched my own funeral in the depths of my lover’s eyes. I was reborn with a smile, only to die again in a farewell. Love, for me, has always meant burning. I embraced the flames, yet I refused to turn to ashes. The fire within my heart found neither shelter nor escape. At night, in the depths of sleeplessness, I whispered your name. During the day, I carried you within me, unseen by the world. No matter where I turned, your eyes remained inside me—but you were never by my side.

Distant cities and endless roads became my companions. As the years of exile accumulated, the void within me grew larger. Loneliness clung to my skin like a second layer, wrapping itself around me. I was lost among crowds, silent amid the noise. Every place I travelled felt foreign; every city I touched rejected me. I never fully belonged anywhere, nor could I return to the place I once called home. "Home" was never a place for me, perhaps not even a person—perhaps only a memory.

My soul was starving for love. I lived with the constant ache of its absence. I could never have enough; I was never complete. I reached out to love, but nothing ever remained in my grasp. People came and went. Some left scars; others vanished without a trace. Yet the emptiness inside me remained untouched. Every time someone came close, a fear grew within me—fear that they would leave, fear that they would never truly stay.

My life has been spent in search of meaning. I have tried to understand people, love, loss, and existence. Yet the more I understood, the more I lost myself. Every answer I found gave birth to an even greater question. Truth was sometimes hidden in a sentence, sometimes in a glance, sometimes in a farewell. But I never reached it completely. I was always a step behind, always incomplete, always distant.

I had no throne, but I had love. I had no kingdom, but I had my pride. I had no place to belong, but I carried emotions within me. And all of these made me who I am. I learnt what it meant to love, to miss, to burn, to be lost, and to search. At times, I thought I had reached the end of the road, yet a new path always opened before me.

I am Burak.
Running toward death, yet condemned to live again and again.
At peace with his own demons, yet estranged from his own angels.
Destined to remain on the edge, forever a guardian at the threshold.
One who accepted burning in love, yet refused to turn to ashes.
And perhaps, more than anything else, still searching for meaning.

With Love and Respect,

Burak Anaturk.

Burak Anaturk is a professional civil engineer. He focuses on sharing lessons from his life experiences, exploring diverse perspectives, and discussing personal development topics.
Email:burakanaturk@gmail.com