September 11, 2011

As a US citizen alive and well during the September 11th attacks, I don’t think I could come across this anniversary without remembering.  I can remember where I was when I heard about the attacks, the feeling of disbelief I had when the first tower was hit. I convinced 16-year-old me that it had to be a drunk pilot and the horror of realizing that this was real.

I may not be from New York, and I may not have had family on those planes, but it felt real to me.  The fear, the anger, the frustration was genuine for me. Every time this anniversary rolls around, I remember those feelings.  Now I am an adult living in another country where, to these people, September 11th is the day after September 10th.

I do feel alone. I know that other people understand how I feel, the fact that so many repercussions have happened due to these attacks.  That so much has changed because of a terrorist organization.  I guess the truth is, it’s not another country’s job to feel sorry for us.  Feeling sorry for the United States every year doesn’t cut it.  I hope that September 11th doesn’t fade into the background like Pearl Harbor Day or the day that President Kennedy was shot. Those days changed the face and make-up of the United States just like September 11th did; I wish that nobody ever forgets the sacrifice or the tragedy–and that one day my anger will turn into hope.

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