Firat Akbas

Tag: writing

  • I Still Use ChatGPT Instead of Writing Everything Myself

    by Firat Akbas

    Let me say this upfront:

    No — I didn’t write every single word of this alone.
    Yes — I used ChatGPT to help me.

    And no, I’m not ashamed of that.

    You shouldn’t be, either.

    Why I Use AI

    Because – maybe like you

    • I overthink every sentence
    • I want to say everything, all at once
    • I get emotionally tangled in what I’m writing
    • I’m afraid I won’t sound as “powerful” as I feel inside

    And when I try to write alone, here’s what often comes out:

    A Real Text I talked into ChatGPT (Before Any Help)

    “I don’t want to take this idea. I kind of want to write about the fact that… …the more we try to become a version of ourselves… …that’s better, slimmer, richer, fitter, more good-looking, whatever it is… …we tend to forget the process of having fun. For me, too. The hard truth is, after work, I’m staying at home, scrolling… …getting the new idea, getting a new insight… …trying to read books for the next hint that solves our problems. But then I came to the conclusion that I forgot how to be happy. I always think about my job that I don’t want to do anymore. I’m making less than I deserve, quote-unquote. Yes. And I want to write about that.”

    That’s me. Word for word.

    No edits.
    No punctuation fixes.
    No structure.
    Just my brain, spilling raw truth.

    What ChatGPT Helped Me See

    I wasn’t lost.
    I was feeling deeply. But the text had too many pauses, too much build-up, and not enough clarity.

    Together, we shaped it into this:

    “I’ve been grinding to become the best version of myself — fitter, smarter, more disciplined. But in the process, I forgot how to be happy.

    After work, I just sit and scroll. Searching for the next book, the next insight, the next solution. Always chasing a fix.

    But lately I’ve realized: I’m not broken. I’m just disconnected from joy.

    I miss laughing. Resting. Just being human.”

    Same soul. Less noise.

    Why I Share This

    Because you’re like me.

    • You feel a lot, but it comes out tangled.
    • Your words don’t land like your thoughts do.
    • You write with heart — but get lost in your own mind.

    You’re just in the middle of becoming fluent in your truth.
    Yes, you should write more, think more, work more.

    But what if you don’t even have energy for yourself at the moment?

    Especially if you are busy workwise, with family, other responsibilities.

    If life feels empty and heavy?

    Why I Still Use ChatGPT (For Now)

    Because it helps me:

    • Reflect without spiraling
    • Stay in motion when I want to quit
    • Say what I mean — without drowning in it
    • Keep writing, even on days I feel like a mess

    This isn’t cheating for me.
    It’s a bridge between the man I am — and the man I’m building.

    And I won’t apologize for using every tool I can to speak the truth.


    I stopped beating myself down with thoughts like:

    • I never really wrote, of course I’m bad
    • No one will take me seriously
    • I’m making a clown out of myself instead of “grinding hard”

    Think about it

    You don’t need to be a perfect writer.
    You just need to be an honest one.

    Even if that honesty sounds like:

    “Hey… I needed help writing this.”

    If you’re someone with a voice that gets tangled in your throat —
    I feel that.

    You are not weak for it.
    You are trying to build – something that lasts.

    Something that’s …

    you.

    Final Words


    I hope this post helps you exhale a bit more.
    Be kind to yourself.

    DM me what you think on X.
    I’ll read it – whether you’re struggling or simply feel seen by this.

    Thanks for reading.
    I’ll see you in the next one.


    I love you. You matter.
    — Firat Akbas

  • Sitting with Nietzsche in the Sun

    A Journal from June 17, 2025
    A Tiny Library, a Good Book Deal, and a Feeling I Couldn’t Explain

    A Stop at the Little Library

    On my way to a small lake, I walked past the little library in our city. It’s small, unassuming — one of those places most people ignore. But today, they had a sale: one euro per book. They were organized in small boxes outside of the store.

    Two of those interested me a lot, so I picked them up:

    • One on something called Reconnective Therapy, about healing through reconnecting with the energetic body
    • Becoming Older Like a Gentleman – Between Engagement and Idleness

    The Thin Man Behind the Glass

    I stepped in and greeted the man behind the glass. He was thin, well-dressed, with black glasses and a kind of calmness that made me stop for a second. Not just calm — intelligent. The kind of intelligent that doesn’t have to speak much.

    It was fascinating how he radiated knowledge, almost like he held ancient secrets.
    There was something mystical about him. Not in a spiritual woo-woo way, but like he knew things the rest of us forgot. I don’t know — maybe it was the ancient-looking books behind the glass.

    I asked him about Nietzsche and Machiavelli. He didn’t say much, just guided me silently to the back, to the Philosophy section. No Machiavelli, but lots of Freud. Some Nietzsche. A bit of Seneca.

    The Books I Chose

    I picked up two:

    • Nietzsche – Menschliches, Allzumenschliches, a book for free spirits, printed in 1994 — the year I was born.
    • Seneca – Von der Ruhe der Seele, printed in 1991.

    They cost five euros each. I was asking him if he was ready to make a deal.
    He said, “We are doing that here all the time — 10 for all 4?”

    He was amazing and also offered me to take a look into their external warehouse.

    Reading Nietzsche with the Sun on My Face

    I sat down outside with a clear view of the water, in the sun, with this amazing view. Reading Nietzsche in German, trying to focus. It’s difficult. Complex language. Old vocabulary. But I’m interested.

    I found him through the psychologist everyone in the lonely self-improvement corner of the internet knows — Jordan Peterson.

    Peterson said something like:

    Every young man should read Nietzsche.
    Learn something hard.
    Sharpen your thinking.
    Learn to speak.

    A well-articulated man isn’t just dangerous — he’s capable. And becoming capable, in Peterson’s words, is the antidote to bitterness and misery.

    I don’t remember exact quotes. But I remember the feeling.
    Do what’s hard. Make yourself sharper. Aim for the highest possible good.
    That hit me.

    So I gave it a shot. It’s hard. And after about an hour, I didn’t feel smart. Actually, I felt more like a failure. I didn’t understand half of what he was trying to say.

    But I kept reading.

    What I did catch was how Nietzsche wrote about being a Freigeist — a free spirit, someone who doesn’t just follow the crowd. He questioned whether God existed. He explained how science and philosophy are always clashing. And he asked:
    How can you know truth if you’re stuck observing everything through a human head?
    And cutting it off won’t magically show you an “afterlife” or a “dreamworld”.

    For a beginner like me in his world, I understood why he was the “weird thinker in the mainstream” back in his time.

    I probably misunderstood some of it. But still — something about it made me pause.

    Then Came Seneca

    Seneca was easier. Maybe not because the writing was simpler, but because my brain was already warmed up. Nothing stuck from it yet.

    But I read for another hour. I stayed in the sun, flipping pages, taking sips of water, getting sunburned on my face, arms, and the insides of my legs.

    I kinda look like someone attacked me with an electric iron, but it helped my heavy thoughts.
    It was very freeing.

    And then I went home.
    I had a piece of steak and an egg. Drank more water. Sat with it all.

    Something Shifted

    It wasn’t about the books, really. It was about the moment.

    I don’t know why, but this line popped into my head:
    “Hurry up, Firat. Your people are waiting for you.”

    Sounds crazy, but I swear I heard this in a dream, looking up to “future Firat” while I was falling asleep to one of Chris Williamson’s podcasts a while ago.
    Like a version of me that’s already walked the path, already suffered through the fog, already earned clarity — and now he’s standing on the other side, sending me a message back through time.

    That’s what it felt like.

    A Thought to Leave You With

    I don’t have the answers. But I do know this:
    Even something small — like reading a hard book on a sunny day, especially when you feel lost — can shift something inside of you.

    And for the first time in a long while, loneliness didn’t feel like punishment.
    It didn’t feel like prison or hell.

    Today, it felt like release.
    Like order, gently arriving in the middle of my chaos.

    I’m not there yet. But I think I’m closer.
    And if you’re feeling like I was this morning, maybe try reading something that feels just a bit too hard.
    Sit in the sun.
    And listen for the version of you that’s already waiting up ahead.

    They might be trying to tell you something, too.

    I love you. You matter.
    Firat Akbas

  • When She Doesn’t Text Back and You Still Can’t Let Go

    You deleted the pictures.

    Blocked her everywhere.
    Told yourself you’re done.

    Because that’s what strong men do, right?

    “Don’t be soft about it.”
    “Move on.”
    “Focus on yourself.”

    So you do.

    You go to work.
    You hit the gym.
    You talk to new people.
    You feel good… mostly.

    But then… one of those nights hits.
    Quiet.
    Lonely.
    Heavy.

    And before you know it,
    You’re unblocking.
    Scrolling.
    Reading old messages.
    Looking at saved photos you swore you deleted.

    You tell yourself it’s nothing.
    Just curiosity.
    Just nostalgia.

    But deep down?

    You’re searching.

    For One Message. One Sign. One Signal That Says:

    “I still care.”

    But it doesn’t come.

    And the longer the silence stretches, the louder it gets.
    It’s not just that she’s gone quiet —
    It’s that part of you still wants to matter to her.
    Even if you’ve “moved on.”
    Even if you’re “strong now.”

    And man… that truth stings.

    The Grief No One Warns Men About

    This isn’t a break-up story with fireworks.
    There’s no final fight.
    No dramatic goodbye.
    Just… distance. Coldness. Absence.

    And that’s the worst part:

    How do you mourn something that technically didn’t end — but is clearly gone?

    We don’t talk about this as men.
    We don’t talk about how we sit at our desks, phone in hand, heart half-shattered.
    How we scroll, stalk, replay memories like they’re sacred footage.
    How we ache to be seen.

    But I’ll say it boldly:

    It hurts when she stops choosing you.
    Even if she never says it out loud.

    You Don’t Just Miss Her — You Miss Who You Were With Her

    At first, I thought I missed her.

    But what I really missed…
    Was me.

    The version of me that felt:

    • Confident
    • Attractive
    • Respected
    • Chosen
    • Full of possibility

    That man disappeared when she did.
    And for a while, I didn’t know how to get him back.

    The Delusion That Texting Again Will Fix It

    Even now, part of me wants to message her again.
    I have her number. Her address.
    I could write something perfect, something kind.
    Just enough to open the door.

    But I won’t.

    Because I’ve learned something the hard way:

    Needing someone to validate your worth will always make you bleed.

    What we really want is peace.
    Not a reply.
    Not a second chance.
    Just a sense of “I mattered.”

    And that’s something we have to give ourselves.

    You Are Not Weak for Feeling This

    You’re not soft for missing her.
    You’re not pathetic for checking if she’s online.
    You’re not broken for still hurting months — even years later.

    You’re just human.

    And maybe no one told you this,
    But heartbreak doesn’t need a dramatic ending to cut deep.

    Sometimes silence is enough to split a man in two.

    So What Do You Do With The Pain?

    You sit with it.
    Not forever. But for as long as it takes to tell the truth.

    And here’s the truth:

    • You don’t need her to see your worth.
    • You don’t need to be loved to be lovable.
    • You don’t need to be chosen to choose yourself.

    You pick up the pieces.
    You rebuild your habits.
    You lift the damn weights.
    You eat well.
    You reflect honestly.
    You walk back into your own life like it still matters.

    Because it does.

    And Maybe…

    Maybe she’ll never text back.
    Maybe someone else is in your spot now.
    Maybe you’ll never hear the words you’re dying for.

    But if you can survive that —
    If you can live without revenge,
    Without closure,
    Without being chosen back…

    Then you’ve already won a fight most never even name.

    Because healing isn’t loud.
    It’s not a post on Instagram.
    It’s not the moment you finally forget her name.

    It’s what happens quietly —
    When you keep showing up.
    When you stop checking.
    When you learn to love the man who stayed.

    The one who didn’t give up on you.

    You.

    – Firat Akbas

    for the men who feel too much and say too little.

  • I Didn’t Miss Her — I Missed Me

    A story about rebuilding from emotional ruin, debt, and losing the man I once was.

    Three years ago, when I was 27, I felt like I was at my peak.
    I trained regularly, had a good job, and was building a real business with a powerful woman in the offline world. I finally had that glimpse: “I made it.”

    I even had a girlfriend — long distance, yes, but loving. She believed in me. Never doubted my words, always respectful, always kind. It was the most honest and peaceful relationship I’d ever experienced. I felt like that guy. The man who wins.
    The one with a mission and a queen.

    But things unraveled.

    I took on debt for the business.
    I wasn’t made co-founder.
    I got betrayed.
    Ended up 50k in the red.
    And somewhere in that wreckage, I started pasting my shame and insecurity onto the woman who’d only ever been kind to me. I ruined it.

    That was the day I stopped trusting people.
    Even though she wasn’t the one who hurt me — she became part of that inner story.
    The belief that everyone eventually leaves or uses you.

    And for a long time, I thought I missed her.

    But today, I realize: I didn’t miss the “success” I thought I had.
    I didn’t even miss the “princess” I thought I lost.
    I missed me.
    The version of me that felt powerful, grounded, respected, and on fire.
    The man who believed he was going somewhere.
    That’s who I lost.
    That’s who I’m slowly bringing back.

    My real strength?

    I’m still working off that debt.
    June 25. Age 30. Still -35k.
    No handouts. No miracles. Just sweat.

    I believe in earning my freedom.
    In my mind, I don’t deserve a shortcut — not until I’ve paid with effort.
    So I show up.

    I keep these anchors:

    • Eat well
    • Train hard
    • Reflect honestly
    • Educate myself

    …but I also:

    • Cheat here and there
    • Miss workouts or coast through them
    • Scroll to numb out sometimes
    • Skip the podcast and watch YouTube instead

    So yes, I’m working.
    But I’m living, too.

    Not like Goggins. Not all gas, no brakes.
    I don’t need to be a robot.
    Because when you’re a shattered wine glass, you can’t pour 400ml of wine into yourself and expect to hold it.

    You glue one piece back.
    Then the next.
    Then the next.

    That’s how I’m rebuilding discipline.
    With humanity.
    With self-respect instead of self-abuse.

    What changed?

    I stopped judging myself.
    Stopped living in that mental cage.

    And I started trusting that messy progress is still progress.
    If you broke both legs, you’re not running a marathon in 30 days.
    But you can walk again.
    Then jog.
    And one day — if you still want to — you’ll run again.

    That’s my story. Not a dramatic comeback.
    Just a man finding his way back to himself.

    And maybe that’s enough.