Boymeat (boymeat) wrote,
Boymeat
boymeat

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A day of silence for me

I really dreaded the coming of today. A year ago was the hardest time I ever had to live through. I was confused, hurt, angry, depressed, and lost. I frantically tried to get in touch with loved ones, people in Brooklyn, LA, DC, Boston... and Australia. In the days following the attack, I was stuck home in Brooklyn. I couldn't go to work, as the city was shut down underneath 14th street... I couldn't get into the city if I wanted, because train service was spotty. I sat at home, sleeping a half hour here, a half hour there... the rest spent watching CBS intently. We didn't receive any other channels, as we had no cable... and with the loss of the towers was the loss of NYC's main broadcasting antenna.

I dreaded today. Because in that year, the wounds began to scab over. And I didn't want to tear that scab off, to start the grieving process anew.

I managed to avoid the memorial services. I buried myself in my work, at my office, plugging away at Excel and Powerpoint. I would sneak out to the lobby, catching a glimpse of the ceremony coverage on CNN... and then I would walk away. I smoked a lot today... a few times on my company's roof deck, 12 stories high... no view of the empty pit, but still empty air where stood the towers right in front of us. I smoked, alone... as the wind tousled my hair. And I enjoyed the silence.

Every once in a while, sirens would pass by the office... and today, 9/11... I grew tense whenever I heard them. I remember a year ago standing out on the street, numb, in shock... watching the empty street get filled by sirens... watching the Red Cross ambulance drive by covered in dust... throwing the tower remains all around us... a mile away from the attack.

I walked to Washington Square Park after work... my usual habit. Except today there were candlelight vigils... much like the ones I attended a year ago... with a few less tears... a lot more anti-war protestors, and a whole lot more anti-government propaganda. I walked away.

I wanted to forget all of this. I didn't want to think about any of this... I wanted to go to sleep on Tuesday night... and wake up on Thursday.

I avoided most of the ceremony. I avoided most of the vigils... the speeches... the images. But the scab was still torn somewhat.

Yes. I still definitely remembered. I fucking remember. All too fucking well.

Its time for bed.
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