Everyone whom I’ve come across since this tragic day has a story to tell, a vivid memory of their exact accounts of that day. For me, when the first plane struck the tower, I shrugged it off as a clip from an upcoming action movie. There was no way an attack in such manner can happen to our country. At the time I was a college freshman, just the fifth day in of me being an “adult”. Upon my arrival on campus, the mood was very somber, another event I did not give too much thought to. Several minutes later, what usually is an early morning class struggling to stay awake and pay attention to the material that was being presented to us, was now a classroom filled with shock, tears and screams. “We are under attack” are the four words that flashed across almost all new stations for what seemed like weeks. The once girl who was excited about embarking on a new journey in adulthood was welcomed with fear, fear that I still live with today, not knowing when and how that next attack would happen.
That historic Tuesday has left me feeling a sense of vulnerability, something