On 9/11. . .

I can’t remember. Unlike most people I don’t have a memory of it. I was in school. That’s all I know. I can’t tell you if we had the TV on or if an aide came running into the room. I can’t tell you at all. I hate how my friends can tell you, but here I am needing my parents to tell me where the fuck I was. I don’t know. I would prefer to know.

I know some people will read this and will go “Why the hell do you wish that?” I wish it, because then I wouldn’t have to put my parents through so much stress by watching documentary after documentary because I just want to know what happened that day. I hate this not knowing. I hate it.

That’s why I watch the documentaries. To attempt to understand what happened. To fill in the blanks.