My Left Side

How I Felt Watching My Left Side

When I first heard about My Left Side, I knew it was a romantic‑drama Turkish series. But I didn’t expect it to wrap me up so completely in its world of heartbreak, struggle, hope and love. From the very first episodes, the story pulled me in — not just because of the romance, but because it felt raw, real, and deeply human.

Rooting for the Underdog: Serra’s Journey

The heroine, Serra, caught my heart immediately. She’s a young architecture student, carrying the weight of her family’s tragedy — poverty, loss, and responsibility too heavy for someone her age. Her father’s business collapsed; her brother’s suicide and her mother’s breakdown left Serra as the head of a broken household, working multiple jobs and studying hard just to survive. Turkish Drama+2Turkish Drama+2

Watching her navigate seven‑years of pain, loss, and hardship made me feel a mix of sadness, admiration, and empathy. She’s thrown into a world almost designed to break her — low income, social prejudice, grief — but she carries herself with dignity and hope. Even in despair, there’s this light in her character that made me root for her every minute. Whenever the narrative showed her exhaustion — juggling university, work, home responsibilities — my heart ached for her. Yet I was also inspired by her resilience.

The Clash of Worlds — Rich vs. Poor and the Pressure of Appearances

Then there’s Selim Kutlusay. On the surface, he’s everything Serra is not: rich, carefree, from a privileged background, with a life of ease and comfort. Series Turkish+1 Their worlds — and social statuses — couldn’t be more different.

Watching these two worlds collide made me feel a tension that tugged at my emotions: I sympathized with Serra’s struggle and simultaneously felt the pressures and expectations that weigh on someone like Selim. I felt conflicted — part of me wanted to see them break social barriers for love, part of me worried about whether the weight of their differences could actually be bridged. The story uses their differences not just for drama, but to highlight inequalities, social expectations, and the struggle of someone trying to survive with dignity. That made the romance feel more grounded and weighty, rather than just fairy‑tale fluff.

The Growth and Softening — When Love Starts to Mean Understanding

At first, Serra and Selim’s relationship was all assumptions, misunderstandings, and prejudice. But as they spent more time together — forced by fate, proximity, or school assignments — I felt their walls slowly crumble. Their fights, their stubbornness, their clashes seemed realistic, not dramatized over the top. And each moment of softness, each glimpse of vulnerability, made me feel hopeful. I found myself quietly smiling whenever Selim looked past Serra’s outward poverty and saw her heart, or whenever Serra glimpsed kindness instead of judgment in him.

Those moments felt like the show’s subtle way of saying: sometimes love isn’t about perfect backgrounds, but about understanding, respect, and seeing the real person underneath. That message touched me more deeply than the biggest romantic scenes.

Side Characters, Jealousy, and the Complicated Web of Emotions

As the story progressed, I saw supporting characters like friends, classmates, and even rivals — each adding shades to the drama. There’s jealousy, unrequited love, misunderstandings, family secrets, social rivalry. Watching how those pressures affected Serra and Selim made me appreciate how fragile happiness can be when external forces are constantly working against it.

I felt frustrated at times — anger at injustices, sympathy for characters that got hurt, hope for love to win. The drama didn’t let things stay simple. It forced its characters to confront their insecurities, prejudices, and fears. That emotional complexity made watching the series feel like being part of a messy, real‑life story rather than a safe, predictable romance.

Reality Check — Pain, Sacrifice, and Strength

One of the most powerful feelings I had while watching was a deep respect for those who fight to survive, even when the world stacks against them. Serra’s sacrifice — for her mother, for her education, for her dreams — spoke to the strength some people carry silently. The series made me think about privilege, inequality, and the courage it takes to keep going when life knocks you down multiple times.

There were moments when sadness washed over me — when the show reminded how easily life can change, how prejudice and assumptions can hurt, how unfairness can persist even in the place we expect kindness. Watching all that unfold stirred empathy and reflection in me.

Sweet Hope and Emotional Highs

But despite the hardships, the series didn’t lose hope. The tender moments — a small gesture, a shared silence, a smile — felt precious. I loved the scenes where Serra dared to dream again; where Selim questioned his world; where both of them tried, despite everything, to find common ground. I felt warmth, hope, and sometimes relief watching their small victories.

I found myself hoping for them — for love to succeed, for truth to come out, for social divides to be bridged. Those emotions lingered long after an episode ended. I realized that sometimes the most powerful stories aren’t those with grand adventures or epic battles — but those that reflect the quiet, human fight for dignity, love, and hope.

Why My Left Side Stayed With Me

By the time the series ended (it runs for 12 episodes) Juksun+1, I felt both sad and content. Sad, because I had grown fond of the characters and their struggles; content, because the story — despite its wounds — had moments of beauty and growth. It felt real. It felt human.

What I appreciated most was how it combined romance with social reality — showing how class divides, prejudice, loss, and hardship can shape lives, and how compassion, honesty, and love can challenge those divisions. It didn’t offer easy answers. It didn’t promise a perfect fairy‑tale. It showed that life is messy, painful, but still capable of beauty.