#isagarcia

[therionsymphonicmetalmasters]

Voces de Therion 2011-2015 #Therion #Therionband #LoriLewis #SandraLaureano #IsaGarcia #EmmieAsplund https://www.instagram.com/p/CB_EXi2AnKL/?igshid=z6eykn47nuoc

[comefossiacquadentroacqua]

So when people leave, I’ve learned the secret: let them. Because, most of the time, they have to. Let them walk away and go places. Let them have adventures in the wild without you. Let them travel the world and explore life beyond a horizon that you exist in. And know, deep down, that heroes aren’t qualified by their capacity to stay but by their decision to return. #IsaGarcia #immaginichelascianoilsegno ———————————————————— #travelgram #igersitalia #igerscampania #ig_campania #ig_italia #placesyoumustsee #travelers #beautifulplaces #passionpassport (presso Ravello, Amalfi Coast)

[thegriptapejournal]

"So when people leave, I’ve learned the secret: let them. Because, most of the time, they have to. Let them walk away and go places. Let them have adventures in the wild without you. Let them travel the world and explore life beyond a horizon that you exist in. And know, deep down, that heroes aren’t qualified by their capacity to stay but by their decision to return."

—The Staying Philosophy, Isa Garcia

[jhannaly]

Memory of (ships)

When I was young, I was idealistic about everything. I was sure that by 24, I’d have it all: a boyfriend, my own condo, a glamorous job and the likes. 

One of my most optimistic beliefs: that my friends when I was 16 would still be my closest friends now, that we’d live nearby each other like the cast of FRIENDS and have fun adult activities like pajama parties (?), late night theater screenings with excessive food-trippings.

I never really considered the possibility that things wouldn’t stay the same, much less that they couldn’t.

By the time I turned 22, I belonged to new circles, built new aspirations and let go of old notions. These things happened  over time, when I wasn’t paying attention to the fact that the people I had built roots with began finding new soil to thrive in.

Recently, while randomly looking through old albums, I saw photos of us smiling, really smiling. That was the first time I actually felt sad about the state of things.

The fallout doesn’t hurt — the aftermath does.

You never expect the people you love to leave, to change, to outgrow you. But it happens and when it does, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. So you learn to bear it, live with it and, somehow, you find it in you to be okay.

But sometimes you’ll come across something or you’ll hear a story or you’ll watch an old show and you’ll remember. And just like I did on that quiet night, you’ll ask yourself: what in the world happened?

What happened was that we entered into different universities/colleges/careers. Some discovered the joys of drinking. Some couldn’t stand it. Some became MIA for a long time. Some left the country.

Without meaning to, we started reinventing our identities. We shed our old skin and began carving out new likes, new hopes, new preferences. Our hair styles changed. So did our clothes. Some of us started wearing more makeup. Some of us cut our hair alarmingly short. Some showed an aptitude in things we never imagined they’d be good at.

We fell in love – with people who weren’t good enough for us, with people that’d make our old selves cringe. We fell in love – with new theologies, new ways of thinking, new passions. Some of us even fell in love with each other and that just made things even more complicated.

We met people, new ones, who connected with us in different ways. They didn’t judge us for changing because they had never known our old selves. They didn’t judge us for changing because they were changing, too.

When we met up on weekends, the conversations petered out because we had less things in common to talk about. We’d vacillate between glory and horror stories. Yet somehow, we’d still find things to laugh about. We believed so strongly in the power of history and we believed with our whole hearts that childhood sentiment would somehow keep us together. But things were shifting and we were shifting along with them.

We got our hearts broken. Some of us went through darker phases. Some tried to help. Some couldn’t. Some graduated (I haven't lolz) Some left the country. Some got jobs right away. Some traveled. Some didn’t know what to do with the rest of their lives.

We had Facebook and text messaging to keep the communication alive. But we weren’t the 16-year-olds we used to be anymore. We were no longer held together by common places or shared beliefs. New places became home to us and new people evolved into our best friends, knew us deeper than anyone, in the new skin we had woven for ourselves as we took diverging paths.

Now it’s so much clearer: friendship is messy.

When you’re young, you never entertain the possibility that things will change. You don’t prep yourself for a breakup. But it happens. You can start your life out with so many people, so many connections, yet wind up with only a handful (literally) the moment you hit your mid-twenties.

When I hear about a job promotion, that new relationship, your Master’s degree or any other life upgrade, I celebrate quietly. Because we’re still the most basic form of friends, the kind that do active spectatorship, that can be happy for the other from a distance. You are still the people that I loved, that I love, that I will love even though we barely even talk anymore. You are still the people I gave my weekends to, was comfortable enough to be a nobody with and found comfort in when I felt nobody else could possibly understand. You are still the people who helped shape me into my current self by simply loving me the best way you knew how to.

Friendship is messy because it doesn’t always last. It doesn’t always culminate in neighboring apartments or conversations that magically stay thick and colorful despite the changing seasons.

But for all its messiness, I think that friendship persists. In a photograph. Or an old story. In memories that can’t be snatched or taken away. I will remember you guys in amusement parks and certain places; every time I pass a certain church or hear a particular word.

And, here comes the renewed idealism of a girl in her mid-twenties: I do believe that whatever history we share will always have the power to keep us bound. I believe that we will always be able to use it to find our way back to one another when we direly need to. I believe that it will be more than enough to bridge the gap made by change. We will always be able to begin again and maybe that fact proves that, at 24, I really do have it all.