What place in the world do you never want to visit? Why?
There are places in the world known for their harsh climates, war-torn histories, and dangerous terrain—places many would understandably avoid. Some may cite remote deserts, conflict zones, or desolate polar regions as the last destinations they’d wish to visit. Yet for me, the place I never want to go is not marked on any map. It cannot be seen from a satellite or discovered through GPS coordinates. The place I fear the most exists not in the external world, but within the human spirit. It is a psychological and emotional abyss. It is the place where dreams no longer reside.
To be precise, the place I never want to visit is the inner state where one loses vision, hope, and motivation. A place where the fire of purpose is extinguished and where the soul ceases to believe in the possibility of change, of creation, of becoming. This place is marked not by geography, but by an existential resignation—a silent surrender to a life of mere survival instead of passionate living.
Why do I fear this place more than any remote or dangerous destination on Earth? Because I have felt its edges. I have stared into its darkness and heard its silent whisper: “Give up. Let go. Stay still.” And I chose to turn away.
A Journey Forged in Fire
My path has not been a simple or easy one. Born in Urmia in 1987, I grew up under the wings of a hardworking father—an electrical engineer and deputy director of the regional Electricity Department. His ambition and dedication shaped my early worldview. At just 16, I was managing his electrical supply business, with an annual turnover exceeding a million dollars. At an age when most teenagers were focused on school or play, I was immersed in the dynamics of trade, negotiation, and leadership.
Yet life, in its unpredictable wisdom, threw me into the crucible of suffering. At 18, a devastating house fire landed me in the hospital for four long months. It was not just the physical pain that challenged me—it was the internal conflict. The sense of being derailed. The question of why me? The uncertainty about the future. In that period, I caught a glimpse of the very place I now fear the most—that internal void where vision and self-belief begin to dissolve.
Instead of succumbing, I made a choice. I rose. I rebuilt. Denied entrance to top universities, I pursued my studies at Islamic Azad University in Khoy, determined to create meaning out of limitation. I then ventured into real estate and construction, launched factories with family, and eventually moved to Istanbul for higher education.
At Istanbul Technical University, I earned my degree with distinction, published international papers, and pursued a PhD while working for a prestigious structural firm. When I left that secure job in 2015 to build my own internet startup, many saw it as risky—irrational, even. But to me, risk was not stepping away from comfort. Risk was staying still. Risk was giving up on dreams. That was the place I refused to visit.
The Real Battle Is Within
The most challenging battles in life are not fought in boardrooms or construction sites or academic halls—they are fought in the mind. When I was dismissed from my PhD program in 2017, I experienced another moment of confrontation with that dark space. It wasn’t about losing a title. It was about the invitation to believe that perhaps I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, worthy enough.
But once again, I made a different choice. I re-enrolled. I started again. I returned to construction. I launched new ventures. I kept moving.
Because to stop—to truly stop in the existential sense—is to step into that terrifying space where the self no longer dreams, no longer dares, no longer believes. That is the real place I never want to visit.
In this space, even time behaves differently. Days blur into weeks. Weeks into months. Life becomes mechanical, transactional, repetitive. Without the guiding force of vision, each action loses its color. The soul grows numb. And the person you were meant to become begins to disappear—not in one dramatic moment, but in the quiet erosion of potential.
A Call to Creation
For me, to live is to create. To dream. To build. To contribute. I aspire to found a global company that touches lives, creates employment, and introduces new values to the world. I dream of a network of branches across continents—a company remembered not just for its success, but for its soul.
And this dream isn’t just professional. It’s deeply personal. It is the shield that protects me from that place of emptiness. It is the light that keeps me on the path. And even at 36, with the feeling that I haven’t yet achieved what I imagined in my youth, I know that the journey itself is sacred. I know that as long as I am moving, I am free.
Conclusion: A Place Never Worth Visiting
So, to anyone who asks what place I never want to visit, my answer is this: I never want to visit the place within me where hope dies. Where movement ceases. Where the flame of ambition is snuffed out.
Because in a world full of physical dangers and challenges, none is as paralyzing, as soul-crushing, as that invisible wasteland of the spirit. I’ve seen glimpses of it before. I’ve stood at its threshold. But I’ve always chosen to walk the other way—with courage, with pain, with grit, but always with purpose.
And I hope, in the years to come, I continue to do so. Because that place, though it may not exist on any map, is the one destination I know I must never reach.
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