The Human Being, Truth, and the Slow Art of Walking Away
Sometimes people do not grow tired because of bad people, but because of people who never touch their truth.
Often, we realize this only late in life. For years, we were taught to maintain relationships—not to deepen them. Yet the question is not merely a moral one; it is an existential one. A person can be good, harmless, perhaps even love you. But if they do not touch your truth, if they do not help you grow, deepen, or bring you closer to yourself, then what exists is not merely a lack—it is a separation.
Human relationships, social connections, emotional bonds, and spiritual ties are among the simplest and yet most unsettling examples of this.
In recent years, nearly all traditional forms of relationships have been reduced to matters of utility and interest. Traditions, capitalist culture, the realities of war, and liberal individualism have all played a role in shaping this.
Particularly in many Middle Eastern societies, friendships, family ties, and social relationships are often sustained not by an existential sense of connection, but by an invisible sense of obligation. Constant contact, involvement in one another's lives, sitting around the same tables—these things are often mistaken for closeness. Yet sometimes it is precisely in the middle of a crowd that a person becomes furthest removed from themselves.
And alienation from oneself may be the deepest form of alienation there is.
For years, Önder Apo has emphasized a central idea:
"The truth is the deepest relationship a person can enter into with themselves."
That is why the question is not simply who we spend our lives with, but whether those relationships bring us closer to truth or further away from it. The farther a person drifts from their truth, the less they unfold into themselves. Instead, something within begins to fragment.
This is where my own transformation began.
I used to believe that being surrounded by good people was enough. But over time I realized that being good is not the same as being deep. And no relationship lacking depth can truly help a person grow.
There are relationships that do not hurt you—yet they do not help you grow either.
And over time, that can become the most invisible form of destruction.
At some point, I began creating distance. At first, it felt like guilt. We had been taught:
"A good person makes space for everyone."
But truth says something different:
The more space a person makes for everyone, the less space remains for themselves.
This is where Önder Apo's understanding of ethics opens another door.
For him, ethics is not merely about avoiding harm to others. It is, above all, about not betraying your own truth.
And one of the first places where people betray themselves is by holding onto relationships that no longer allow them to grow.
For years, many of us tried to understand this through reading, discussion, and social practice, yet we never truly made it the center of our lives. Acting politically, hiding parts of ourselves, making difficult decisions—all of it often remained theoretical.
Even when we understood these ideas intellectually, in practice we often revolved only around our own limited understanding of truth. Reducing this perspective solely to the specific realities of Kurdistan may be understandable under current conditions, but the deeper truth concerns humanity as a whole.
For me personally, it took a difficult period—a time of change and transformation—to begin embodying this understanding in everyday life.
Larissa, in this regard, is someone who seeks truth and radiates light.
My conversations with her, but also her sincere effort to live these ideas and demonstrate something through the way she exists in the world, have deepened this awareness within me.
Because there are people who do not explain anything. They simply mirror you back to yourself.
Connection with them is not a habit. It is an awakening.
Quiet, yet powerful.
In their presence, words are not always necessary. Genuine connection is often felt before it is spoken.
But this requires transformation—a difficult and sometimes painful transformation.
Because as a person grows, they inevitably leave certain things behind. From the outside, this may look like coldness. In reality, it is one of the hardest steps toward one's own truth.
Truth does not always comfort.
But it always liberates.
Today, many people build relationships primarily around feeling good. Yet real connection is not always comfortable. Sometimes it shakes you. Sometimes it challenges you. Sometimes it forces you to see yourself. But in the end, it brings you closer to who you truly are.
And perhaps this is where the essential distinction begins:
Habit?
Or truth?
Habit keeps you occupied. Truth transforms you.
That is why today I can say more clearly than ever:
This is not a retreat from people.
It is a return to oneself.
And this return is not merely personal—it is also a revolutionary act. To move closer to one's own truth is to resist the superficiality, habits, and artificial forms of closeness imposed upon us by the systems we live within.
As Önder Apo says:
"A free person is a person who lives with the truth."
And a person who lives with truth can no longer remain in every relationship.
Can no longer exist everywhere.
Can no longer accept everything as it is.
That is why some doors close.
But this is not a loss.
It is the protection of one's own essence.
And eventually, you understand:
A person does not grow by carrying everyone with them.
Sometimes growth means
slowly learning to walk away.
Some stories travel further when they are shared.