The pain has never really left. Not just the pain of witnessing someones revolution televised, but the pain that continues to poison our country, the idea of our freedom, our country, our way, as a guide for everyone in the world.
Man so much is tied to that day. So many symbols & statements missed. My own fate being effected by the a-holes thinking I'm Muslim & hating me. Then a-holes in office that don't get it.
Then waking to my alarm clock saying something about no cellular use in NY. Turning on the TV to see the 2nd plane land live into the other tower. Confusion and numbness and fascination. "God what the heck is going on?" Getting to work only to be unable to mentally or physically function beyond watching the several televisions set up in employee areas. Crying, wondering, fearing, calling my friends in NY and wishing it was not all not in vain. Watching the towers collapse, then more collapsing then going home to my cat, wishing my then boyfriend was in town.
Two days later crying in his arms a cry so painful that all my childhood atrocities were in some ways forever dulled.
So much could be said. But those who know me well know that the deeper I feel, the less I say. All I know is that today the shadow of the worlds pain from that day still resides somewhere in my heart.
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