On April 17th, I boarded a plane for the first time in my life.
The excitement of that moment felt like I was tasting freedom for the very first time.
I even shared that experience with you.
And what I wrote was read more than any of my other writings.
Maybe, for the first time, I had written a true “escape” story.

Today, I must tell you more.
Because this isn’t just a piece from a journal —
this is the voice of one of my deepest fears.

I used to live in Istanbul.
I say “used to,” because I may never return.
And saying that leaves a heavy ache inside me.

Istanbul…
A city where I collected memories in every corner,
where I chased my hopes down every street.
But now, that city is turning into a shadow looming over me.

A major earthquake is expected.
Magnitude 7.5.
It’s easy to say the number…
but it’s much harder to grasp the tremor it leaves in your heart.

If this city — which already carries the crumbling weight of my country’s broken economy —
falls to ruins,
what future will be left?
What hope will survive?
Only rubble, silence, and endless loss.

Even thinking about it makes my hands tremble,
as my mind fills with images of millions of desperate souls.
Fires, screams, darkness…
And finally, a haunting silence.

The thought of returning to such a city knots my throat.
I know — death is a possibility.
But there’s something even worse: not dying.

Imagine being trapped under rubble…
Waiting in the suffocating darkness for days…
Knowing no help is coming.
The fear, the loneliness, the silent screams echoing inside you —
how can I ever describe that?

On April 17th, we left the city for a short holiday.
And just a few days later, on April 23rd,
an earthquake struck with a magnitude of 6.2.
A small warning, maybe.
Experts say the great disaster is fast approaching.
And I feel like I’m racing against time — against fate.

Most of the people around me are indifferent.
Living among those who don’t even value their own lives,
waiting quietly for the end…
It feels like dying before death even comes.

I am afraid.
And I won’t deny it.
Because this fear isn’t just mine.
It’s the fear of standing powerless before an inevitable disaster.

Today, instead of silencing my fear,
I choose to share it with you.

Because if my voice reaches someone, somewhere —
maybe, just maybe, it can offer a little hope
to someone else about to be swallowed by the same darkness.

“Maybe one day, these writings will be lost in darkness… But today, I leave my fears and hopes to the world.”