I was up all night studying in college. I went bed at like 4am to get maybe 5 hours of sleep before a big exam. Woke up at at like 7 am to my roommate and his friends being loud as fuck. I was pissed because I really needed sleep. Walked out to living room to tell them to stfu. They looked at me with wide eyes, and pointed at the tv.

A few minutes later the second plane hit. Jfc. What a moment.

I knew then that exam wasn’t happening, and that the world had changed. I was angry about the attack. That this people were robbed of their lives, and their families were suffering.

And I was angry because I knew it meant more endless wars. More bush. More government spy programs. And more flag waving by a mob of riled up idiots. I hated myself for being cynical. Hoping I was wrong.

I was in the fourth grade. I never did enjoy the art class so I was able to go to the library and help with instead. Anyways, I was walking in and the librarian had the TV on (which was odd) but I got there just in time to see the second plane hit.

I didn’t understand it at the time but I had just witnessed history that a child shouldn’t ever have to see.