I can’t believe it’s been 13 years since I last spoke to my lovely Isabel.
13 years since she was hunted down on Utøya, running until her feet were raw for over an hour, terrified beyond belief, and shot as she was trying to hide away in a small crack in the mountain.
Issa was so brave, so loud, so talented, so passionate, so stubborn, ridiculously funny, and her sense of justice put the rest of us to shame.
She would have made such big changes in the world if she were allowed her life, she would have danced and laughed and fought and loved.
Instead we have to try to be grateful enough for the time we got with her.
For those 17 short years.
I’ve spent countless hours in her room, in her house, with her family, by her grave, anything to feel a little closer to her, but nothing will ever be enough.
She hated guns.
She didn’t even wanna watch movies with shooting in them.
To think that she was so scared, so helpless, that her last hour was spent in a panic so horrific we can’t begin to imagine, seeing so many friends die before her, it rips me up inside.
Time is strange, because in many ways it stopped that day, for so many people, families, friends, witnesses, for our whole country.
We’ll never forget that day, but we’ll also never forget that 77 people that was so brutally taken from us.
I miss you most of all, Issa
🌹🥀
