I live in Japan, so I’m half a day ahead of everybody else. On 9/11 in Japan, I went to sleep at 11:00pm, and woke up at 6:00am on 9/12. My mom was away on business, so I called my dad’s cell phone to tell him that I had woken up. He told me that was good, but he wasn’t at work. “So where are you?” I asked. “Downstairs. There’s been a terrorist attack.” My first thought was that one of the U.S. bases in Japan had been attacked. I ran downstairs to talk to my dad and saw a plane crash into a tall building. I hadn’t known what the WTC buildings had looked like until 9/11. The anger that I felt inside of me swelled to the point where I couldn’t stop crying. How could someone do this to the United States of America? We are the best country in the world, invincible. What a rude awakening to the real world. I still had to go to school because I don’t go to a base school. The security guards were not letting cars drive off, so I had to take a bus. At school, nobody was as upset as I was. I am one of the only Americans at the international school the I attend, people just didn’t understand why I wasn’t normal. It wasn’t a normal day. Someone had attacked my country.