I will make this diary brief as I merely want to recount that day and what my emotions were.
Read it below the fold.
It's been exactly eight years since that fateful day. I can still remember when we first found out and the confusion and fear I felt. It was my second full day of sixth grade and I was still adjusting to the schedule. At 9-ish in the morning, the principal announced that the World Trade Center had been struck by a plane. That news was soon followed with the news that the other tower had just been struck by another commercial airplane.
The rest of the morning was a blur to me, it all seemed so unreal that something like this could happen so suddenly. After noontime, the teacher spoke to us all about what just happened, but I was too overwhelmed to listen fully. I sincerely thought we were at war from what I thought I heard her say. I remember asking: "Who are we at war with?" to which she responded: "We are not at war with anyone." That calmed me some, but I was still confused.
Ordinarily, I would walk home from school, but that day, both my parents picked me up. I was so confused and fearful, I was saying stuff like "This could turn into World War III."
I spent that evening watching the news coverage of the disaster. It was a day none of us would ever forget...ever.