Chapter 1: A Heartbreak That Changed Everything
Losing one of my best friends, Jamila, to suicide was a heartbreak unlike any I had ever known. We shared a bond so deep that she wasn't just my friend—she was family. Her absence left a void that I couldn't begin to comprehend. It felt as though the world had shifted, and everything around me became muted, as if the colors of life had faded to grayscale. Every memory we had shared felt sharp, like fragments of glass that cut deeper with each recollection.
In the days that followed, I was enveloped in a fog of grief, moving through each moment as if underwater. I was haunted by endless questions—Why hadn’t I seen the signs? Could I have done something to save her? These questions replayed over and over in my mind, never finding answers, only deepening my pain. Nights were long and filled with restless thoughts; every memory I had with Jamila felt both beautiful and unbearable. I struggled to move forward, to feel any sense of peace, but nothing seemed to help. I needed something to anchor me, something to pull me out of the darkness, even if only for a moment.
One afternoon, in a desperate attempt to distract myself, I mindlessly scrolled through social media. I wasn’t expecting anything; I was just trying to pass the time, to find some kind of relief from the silence. That’s when I came across a video of an artist pouring resin, manipulating the fluid colors and textures to create glossy, almost otherworldly art. I was captivated. Watching those vibrant colors swirl and blend was like catching a glimpse of beauty that I thought had been lost to me forever.
The resin’s fluidity, its ability to flow and transform into something striking, resonated deeply with me. It reminded me of life’s unpredictable nature—the way things can change in an instant, leaving you to find new forms and meaning from the pieces left behind. As I watched, I felt something inside me stir—a faint spark in the midst of my sorrow. It was a small reminder that beauty, even in the wake of such profound loss, could still exist.
In that moment, resin art became more than a video on my screen; it felt like a lifeline. The artist’s hands creating something so fluid, beautiful, and whole out of separate elements felt almost magical, and I began to wonder if perhaps I could find a similar kind of alchemy for my own grief.