It's hard to believe it's been two years.
Two years ago, I watched in utter helplessness like billions of people worldwide, shocked and scared.
Two years ago, I heard the frantic pleas from my mother and sister to leave the city and join them in the suburbs.
Two years ago, I cried with a coworker before the television in the breakroom.
Two years ago, the dead silence in the air, void of the sound of aircraft no longer taken for granted, filled my heart with inescapable fear.
Two years ago, perceptions of the world were forever changed.
I was awakened by a persistant phone call around midday. "Mom wants you to come home," the quivering voice of my sister spoke. She told me to turn on the T.V.
What I saw was like nothing I'd ever seen before, nothing like I'd ever expected to see. I begged off the phone with a promise to call back and promptly woke the sleeping Jordan next to me. We sat in awe for hours, flipping between the channels, hoping the next one would have some answers.
I logged onto the message boards I frequent to find scores of threads - some asking New Yorkers to check in, some detailing each's experiences, some from users in other countries sharing all the different stories they were hearing of the events, some instigating trouble, but all inciting extreme emotion. Weeks later, I'd personally save these threads to my harddrive in hopes to share with younger generations just what people all over the world were experiencing, giving them insight that was unavailable for world events past. All told, there were over 80 individual threads.
I went to work that night, against my desires. I was on the verge of or in tears throughout my shift at the drugstore. I was appalled by people coming in, buying their shampoo, candy bars, cold medicine and beer, laughing and carrying on like the world wasn't in turmoil around them. I wanted to yell, to shout out at them, "Don't you see?" It all seemed so insignificant, so pointless.
The first time I saw the Sears Tower following the disaster, I cried.
The first time I saw the large American flag that had been hung over the first overpass leading from the Kennedy Expressway to the Dan Ryan, I cried.
The first time I heard a commercial airplane fly overhead, I cried.
I cried. I cried. I cried.
I cried and I will never forget.
- Your Proteinacious One
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