Mabel Matiz Antidepresan: Gitme Burdan |

The irony wasn’t lost on them. The song was a plea wrapped in a dance, a heartbreak you could move your hips to. It was exactly how Selim felt: a tragic mess disguised as a functioning human being.

Across from him sat Leyla. She was adjusting her scarf, her eyes already halfway out the door, looking toward a life in a city where the sun actually shone. She was leaving for London in three hours. Gitme Burdan | Mabel Matiz Antidepresan

Selim looked at his hands. He felt like a ghost haunting his own body. He wanted to scream, to tear the floorboards up, to beg. But the words felt heavy, drugged by months of trying to stay numb. "Gitme burdan," he finally said. Don't leave this place. It wasn't a command. It was a collapse. The irony wasn’t lost on them

Leyla reached across the table, her fingers brushing his cold knuckles. "You have to find a reason to stay that isn't me, Selim. You can't turn a person into a pill." Across from him sat Leyla

"I'm not," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm just asking for a little more time before the lights go out."