I feel like it would be bad form for the 10th anniversary of 9-11 to go by without me saying something about it, but I don’t have much to say.
I was a sophomore in college on September 11, 2001. I was going to my 9am German Writing class, when the professor said that there was an attack on the World Trade Center. Before that day, I didn’t even know what the World Trade Center was. I had never been to NY, and I don’t know why, but I just didn’t know about it. I think we had some of the class, and then we were let out early. I don’t really remember. I remember that all the other classes were cancelled. I spent the whole rest of the day in my boyfriend’s dorm room, watching the TV, and feeling confused. I was finally able to call my family in California, and explain to them that the plane that crashed in Shanksville was far away from Pittsburgh, and that I was safe. I didn’t lose any loved ones on 9-11, I don’t even know anyone who did. I only remember constant rumors about all the other places that were certain to be attacked. I remember the swell of feelings of community and patriotism in the months afterward. But after that, I remember the bitterness. That bitterness still hasn’t faded.