15 years later

15 years later, I am still in question of what happened. I'm still angry with someone, but I don't know who. Who am I supposed to be angry with? The government tells me it was some terrorists from another country, but I don't know. I have watched and read so many different things, that is has all melted together in a dream/reality sludge of truth vs. lies.

15 years later my heart still aches, and my breath gets caught somewhere in the void between my head and my heart. Images still fresh in my mind as though it happened just this morning. The dust covered people scrambling with sheer terror upon their faces. The helplessness, the fear, the unknowing.

15 years later I still cry. I wasn't even there, but it affected me too. Our country, the one that was invincible became mortal that day. The people who lost their lives, the firemen, policemen, rescue workers who worked tirelessly and died for others. The ones who waited for loved one who would never return.

15 years later I still remember. I remember the feelings, the smell of the air, the clothes I was wearing, the look on my grandfather's face as he told me what was happening. I remember his words: "We weren't ever safe, we were only given a false sense of safety." I remember thinking that it was all over.

15 years later I still wonder. I still cry. I still hurt. I still remember.

Remember. Always.