BY MELEK CANSU PETEK (ELIT/III)
petek@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
Each ending carries a beginning within, but some good-byes are harder to say than the others, as exciting as that new beginning might be.
This is the last column I’m writing for Bilkent News, and probably the hardest one to write. This newspaper has been a part of my life for the last two and a half years. I’ve had so many nights when I simply couldn’t find a word to put on paper, panicking over a deadline closing in—or a deadline that had already passed. Not getting enough sleep on Tuesday nights, as I tried to figure out what to write about (and then actually write it) has become a routine during these years—including on this particular Tuesday night. But there has always been one thing that made me continue writing, even when I didn’t feel like it. I’m not going to pretend to be an awesome, selfless writer and say the reason was you, the reader. It wasn’t the pleasure of seeing my words in print, either. I kept writing because I grew to love the way it made me belong.
I wrote about seasons, books and movies. About times of joy, depression and uncertainty. About the things that matter to me the most, and how we should all find our true passion and do our best to follow it wholeheartedly. I never had a theme, and I didn’t even make much sense most of the time. But I wrote, unwrapping one more layer with each column. I wrote because I came to realize that my words resonated with you. That was the moment I also realized that writing is a form of belonging.
When I first walked into our dear coordinator’s room to talk about the position of opinion columnist, and have an informal interview, I was thinking more about what I could offer to the Bilkent community. “I want to share the hope I have in me,” I said—and indeed, I would write extensively about hopes and dreams. Little did I know that through those writings I would get to be heard and understood, would cultivate wonderful friendships, and every once in a while touch a heart or two.
Every single e-mail I received from you, the readers, replenished my soul. Knowing that you took the time to read was in itself more than enough, but finding that you would write me encouraging words, telling me to keep writing, was a blessing beyond my understanding. Whenever someone came to me and made gracious comments about the latest piece I had written, or even said, “I read your columns regularly,” I started dancing in my head while trying to maintain a calm exterior pose and humbly thank the kind person who bothered to talk to me.
The highlight of my career as a “writer” was when two wonderful individuals came up to me at separate times and told me that my relentless columns on following one’s passion had encouraged them to change their majors and do something they really enjoyed. I’m not so conceited as to think that I was the primary reason for their decisions, but hearing those words was an affirmation that what I had done with my own life was the right decision. It also showed me how powerful words can be, and how much they matter.
When I started my new career as an English literature student, I didn’t know how I could stand being an undergraduate for three more years. I felt (relatively) old, incompetent and broken, but with a tinge of hope. As I continued writing here, that hope grew, fixing some bits of the brokenness as it expanded. Feeling old turned to realizing that I had life experiences I could share; incompetence was slowly washed away with each encouraging word I heard back from you. Now, as this phase comes to an end, and a new beginning emerges, I will be taking those soul patches with me, wherever I go, and remember you, the reader, and this newspaper. May our words ever continue to heal each other’s wounds. May they be our shelter when things get rough, and our inspiration to move forward when the opportunity arises.
P.S.: You didn’t think I’d end it without rambling a bit more, right? Since you’ve heard me go on and on about trying to make decisions regarding my future and waiting to hear back from the one and only school I applied to, I might as well break the good news: I will be starting school at the University of Notre Dame this fall, pursuing a master’s degree. Endings and beginnings, dear Bilkenters! Take good care of yourselves!