One year and two days ago, my cousin, who also happened to be one of my closest friends, died following a horrific car accident. For further context please read this before continuing.
Sensing that this would be a difficult period for me, my best friend (aka one of the most selfless and amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing), booked us a short break away. She organised and planned the entire trip and I had no clue where we were going right up until the departure gate.
A side note for those who are wondering: walking without paying attention while listening to very loud music to block out announcements helped to keep the secret.
So, here I am, in Seville. I’m sitting in a beautiful apartment as I post this while feeling a combination of joy sprinkled with melancholy – more joy than sadness though. Based on what I have experienced so far, I would recommend a visit to this characterful city (dependent on the sort of holidays you like).
There is no filter that can take this torment away.
No retouched pleasantries to fit this frame, because
overexposed mourning will never restore the light lost
from the glossy darkness that were your liquorice eyes.
My fixer is gone and tonight I feel like an
underdeveloped negative unable to predict a propitious end,
I am writing to process pain and stifle sobs but each tear
remains a full stop to the disquieting sentence imposed on us all.