I remember walking into my freshman composition class on September 11th to find the television on (which was rare because my teacher hated to let us watch TV). As soon as I saw what I thought at that time was an accident, my eyes were glued. I couldn’t pay attention to anything else, and even before the following catastrophic events, I remember sitting there feeling so helpless that there were so many people trapped in the upper floors. I don’t remember anyone saying much of anything in first period that morning, and I remember watching that second plane crash into the South Tower with absolute horror. I was fourteen, a freshman in high school and it was actually my freshman picture day. I can look back in my freshman yearbook and just see shock and disbelief on pretty much everyone’s faces. In every class after, of course, all we did was watch the news and cry and express our disbelief that what we were seeing was actually happening.

It’s amazing to be able to remember the tiniest details of that day. Such as I was wearing a purple shirt and new shoes that I really loved. I remember there was a guy in my comp class that I was crushing on and I was excited to sit by him. I spent that night at my grandma’s house and got so upset with my sister because she wanted to turn the TV and watch the tennis US Open. Normally I would have loved to, but I still couldn’t take my eyes away from the news coverage. I got no sleep that night because every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the towers coming down and people jumping from them as they burned. It’s like everything, from the tiniest details to the horror that was 9/11, is burned into my memory. Sometimes I wish I could forget, but honestly, I find myself thinking of and sort of reliving that day sometimes when I least expect it.