I was eight and in year four and it wasn’t a very sunny day at all. My mother told me how she and my dad saw the second tower get hit and collapse live the night before. She said she was terrified, but I didn’t even remember what the twin towers looked like — the only twin towers I knew were my own. I went to school and discussed childish conspiracy theories with my friends and forgot about it for the rest of the day.

Somebody’s tragedy was only a month of newspaper headlines to me. It’s such a silly, scary thought, but it was and is and always will be such a landmark of an event. It brought along with it a lot of hope and also a lot of hate. I like to contemplate how much less negativity and fear there would be about certain things in our society if 9/11 never happened, but it’s exhausting and tiresome and I have no time left to be sad anymore.

Ten years on, though, and I still cry like a baby.

(Source: gypsyspeak)