On 9/11

I'm trying not to think about today. On a day all will remember, some part of me just wants to forget.

Its always been apparent to me that everyone who was old enough when the attacks happened to remember them, today remembers exactly what they were doing when they heard the news. At 9, I was old enough to be cognizant of what was happening - to understand it on a certain level. Only, this understanding was on the same level as the Bogey Man or Bigfoot; it was a fear based on the anticipation of what could happen, rather than what did, and always blanketed with the promise that my parents would be there to protect me.

But now, after ten years, things are so very different. Instead of a witness to the world, I'm a participant. I'm involved. I'm responsible. Now, it could be me who is the victim of our kind's hatred. It could be me who sacrifices everything. It could be me who is left with the task of rebuilding.

And I would gladly and thoughtlessly do this.

But I don't think I'll ever stop fearing, questioning, trying to change this world that can hate itself so much.

So for now I don't think about, just in case someday it's all I do.