2002-09-05 | 7:44 p.m.

I wasn't going to do this. I wasn't going to fork over my two cents about this. I was going to keep quiet and ignore it all. But I'm tired of ignoring. Tired of forcing emotions inside that are desperately trying to crawl out of my skin.

I don't get why everyone wants to make a spectacle out of September 11th. People died, they fucking died. Can't anyone just stop and think about that? I get so violently angry when I go into a store like Duane Reade and see all these statues lined up of the twin towers. It's not something that should be marketed you dumbfucks. It's something that should be laid to rest in peace.

And nobody fucking realizes how bad it was when they only saw what was going on from the TV. All these people that want this damn national holiday weren't here. People died. They fucking died. Can't they get that through their thick heads? I'm not saying all of this to be some sort of martyr, but I find it incredibly fucking sick when people want it to be celebrated as a National holiday. Call it being 'ignorant', but I don't want to remember it. I don't need to be reminded and reflect on the anger and fear and pain and hurt I felt that day. It was hard enough to try to move on from there (some of us still are on a daily basis) but now that we have just started to do so, then here it is again and it's in our faces again and you want to fucking celebrate it?

And I guess I can somewhat understand that people want it to be a national day of remembrance and reflection. But you know what? I think people living in this city remember it every day. Not one day goes by where we all don't think about it. I understand the theory to it. Having September 11th run along the same lines as Veterans Day or Memorial Day. But September 11th floods my eyes with the images of those who tragically lost their lives because of some fucking evil bastards regime. Because of extreme religion and evil. And while we know what this country stands for we don't need to be prodded and poked about this day or have images flashed before our eyes all day on TV sets. You all may need it but we were here. We lived through the hell, we don't need to visit it again.

And I'm sorry for ranting about this but I am fed up. I am fucking fed up. Every day is an uphill battle and I don't need someone to keep reminding me of the horror I, along with every other New Yorker felt that day. We're still trying to function. Everyone else may have gone about their daily ways in shock but we're all still here. After the smell of death faded from the air we are all still here. So please excuse me, but fuck off with your national holiday. I'm just too tired to hear about the arguments and debates about what kind of 'memorial' should be placed at Ground Zero. I'm tired of seeing people selling photos of the World Trade Center on the street and poorly printed over-priced t-shirts. I'm tired of seeing tourist take pictures with a New York City Police Officer. Yeah, go back home and tell your friends and family, "This is me with a member of the NYPD..ooooh! America's Heroes!". Make sure you market the sucker out of everything. This city has changed forever, it'll never go back to be what it was before Sept. 11th. I hate that I am now skeptical and paranoid about living here. I hate that I still flinch with planes overhead or the fact that I'd rather walk everywhere then take the subways or buses. It's still too new, too fresh. I don't need to re-live it and have the memory shoved in my face again and again all day long. Think of those who survived while their friends or family died. We don't want to be reminded by any sort of media, we remind ourselves on a daily basis as is. So leave us the fuck alone!

I am trying to be good to myself. I am trying to realize that life is to be lived every minute to the fullest. In one song from Rent the characters sing 'no day but today'. And I know it to be true. I just need more time to cover my wounds. They are still achingly fresh. A year is nothing, it flies by, and I'm not ready. I don't think many of us are.



p r e v i o u s // n e x t