I have always hated Christmas. The city transforms into a fake celebration, with shop windows glittering under artificial lights and hollow smiles on people\u2019s faces. Gifts, decorated trees, and perfect family portraits\u2026 All these images remind me of my past. Once, I had a family too. Elif\u2026 my wife with a warm smile, and my little boy, Efe\u2026 But I lost them. They vanished from my life because of my own mistakes. I don\u2019t even know where they are now. Maybe they\u2019ve built a new life in another country. All I know is that I caused them the greatest harm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For me, Christmas is nothing but an echo of loss\u2014the anniversary of the cold emptiness inside me. But this year, things were going to be different. I decided to prepare for my own end. I chose one of the sturdy beams in my house; this time, instead of hanging a decorated Christmas tree, I would hang myself from that beam. Embracing the silence of the end\u2026 It seemed like a simple decision, yet death required far more courage than I had anticipated. To gather my resolve, I decided to step outside and buy one last bottle of whiskey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The streets were deserted; the pulse of life seemed to have come to a halt. Only a small convenience store, its dim lights flickering, remained open. The cashier said, \u201cMerry Christmas,\u201d and I nearly let out a bitter laugh. I simply nodded and walked out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I opened the whiskey bottle and took a few large gulps; the warmth burning my throat couldn\u2019t disperse the cold inside me. As I walked, I noticed a peculiar-looking homeless man sitting at the street corner. He wore an old, white cloth, and his face glowed oddly under the streetlight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome, sit with me,\u201d he said in a calm voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why not? Eternity could wait a few more minutes. I offered him the bottle, and he silently accepted it. In that moment, I recognized his face\u2014it looked as if it had stepped out of a fresco. It resembled a sacred face I\u2019d seen in old church paintings, but more tired, more human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou think this isn\u2019t real,\u201d he said suddenly, locking his eyes on mine. \u201cBut how can you be certain of what\u2019s real?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His voice sounded like it was woven from ancient prayers. \u201cYou wonder where God is,\u201d he continued. \u201cBut what if God is you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf I\u2019m God, then why is my life a wreck?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBecause you built it that way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His words surfaced the questions that tightened my chest. \u201cIf I die\u2026 does everything end?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDeath is merely the end of one dream\u2026 and the beginning of another.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A shiver ran down my spine. But then the sanctity in his expression gave way to a glint of cold wit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy do you call me Jesus?\u201d he asked, his eyes glimmering with a deep, mocking amusement. \u201cThe last time, you called me Arda.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cArda? What does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIn 2050, human consciousness was transferred to digital platforms. You\u2019re inside a simulation. I am your personal assistant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His words sliced through the layers of reality like a blade. \u201cSo\u2026 I\u2019m code?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes. And at this point, the system has deviated. You\u2019re being given two options: Reset\u2026 or return to a previous save point.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The world was fracturing, unraveling. \u201cLife\u2026 is it a game with save points?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt always was. Poor decisions rewind the system, and you carry on. But when you deviate far enough, the system has to correct itself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2026 I want to go back,\u201d I said, almost pleading. \u201cI want my family\u2026 Elif and Efe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The mocking expression on his face softened into profound compassion. \u201cPerhaps\u2026 that wish has already been granted.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the whiskey bottle slipped from my hand, the world plunged into darkness\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt a gentle pressure on my chest. When I opened my eyes, I was in a room illuminated by the warmth of a crackling fireplace. My little boy, Efe, was climbing onto my stomach, joyfully yelling, \u201cDad, Santa came! Let\u2019s open the presents!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Elif smiled at me from the kitchen, her eyes holding the tenderness of the entire universe. Across from me stood a giant Christmas tree adorned with glittering gifts beneath it, while Efe\u2019s delighted laughter filled the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDad, didn\u2019t Santa bring you anything?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My throat tightened, and with tears in my eyes, I smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, sweetheart\u2026 He brought me the most precious gift.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In that moment\u2026 Christmas was no longer a symbol of loss; it became a hope reborn from the ashes, a dream rewritten.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I have always hated Christmas. The city transforms into a fake celebration, with shop windows glittering under artificial lights and hollow smiles on people\u2019s faces. Gifts, decorated trees, and perfect family portraits\u2026 All these images remind me of my past. Once, I had a family too. Elif\u2026 my wife with a warm smile, and my […]<\/p>","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":675,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-674","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/674","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=674"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/674\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/675"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=674"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=674"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dadatechworks.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=674"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}