Ten years ago, the particular day's schedule at E. O Smith High School had students in a double-A block. I had two English classes in a row. We were on break between them when a friend of mine came up and said they just watched a plane fly into a building. He was in U.S. History at the time, so I thought he was talking about footage from some old war. I went back to English class, and the television was on, and I saw that it had just happened. We watched the footage of the first plane flying into the first tower, and the aftermath, and wondered what made the pilot make such a huge mistake. Then we turned off the television and went back to class. It wasn't until we next changed classes that we learned that another plane had hit.

I went to Human Behavior, and we sat and watched the news. I was allowed to call my mother from the classroom phone, to make sure our family members who live outside D.C. were okay. I watched classmates hold each other, eyes filled with years, staring at the screen, and I still couldn't really understand what was happening. I just knew it was...awful.

I don't remember why I didn't see the first tower fall, but I'll never forget watching the second tower go down. It was...breathtaking. Like being in a vacuum. It was inconceivable. It lasted forever. It was soundless, through the television, when it should have been deafening. It was unreal.

I remember school being let out, most of my group of friends automatically, mindlessly congregating to the alcove we all hung around after school, until Michael came up and said "What are you doing? Get on your busses! Go home!" I remember that all the Mansfield students were wearing flag pins that day, although I can't remember why. I remember listening to the radio when I got home, every show turned into a call-in to talk about what had happened, peoples' thoughts and theories.

I remember that tower falling for what seemed like forever.

I hate that it's become the "cool thing" to not care about what happened on 2001, an anti-sheep-mentality movement to differ oneself from those who bark about the tragedy and wave around American flags without really understanding either one.

I know that worse things have happened. I know that more people have died in this country in previous wars, that "we" have killed people in the Middle East in numbers that make 9/11 pale in comparison, that that majority of those killed were innocent civilians slaughtered in the name of answering for the tragedy.

I also know that my generation--and even the one before it--had never seen such devastation on our home soil in its lifetime. We had heard stories and watched movies and read lessons about Pearl Harbor, the closest comparison I can think of, but it was history. Something that had happened before our time. Something we couldn't fully comprehend.

Then, in the middle of a school day, we were given our own piece of history.

I don't care about the numbers thrown at me if I dare to show any sadness over the tragedy. I mean, of course I care, but it doesn't change how I feel about that day. A hydrogen bomb may be bigger than an atomic bomb, but does that make the destruction from an A-bomb any less horrific?

I don't use that day as a reason to blindly follow certain political parties or causes who shook their fists the best or made the most touching speeches. I don't condone the actions supposedly based on this tragedy that led to more mindless deaths. The sadness in my heart isn't because it's fashionable right now. My pride in the heroes of my country and my fellow human beings--not just the firefighters and policemen who did their duty, but the civilians in the stairwells and on Flight 93 who sacrificed to try and save others--didn't come to me after I watched some television special.

I'm proud because they were brave. I'm sad because it's terrible.

To make a long story short: innocent people died for no good damned reason. Thousands died, millions were devastated and terrified, so many families were forever torn into irreparable pieces. I refuse to be made to feel stupid for mourning that loss, for feeling anger toward the terrorists who flew the plane, for feeling sadness for the families forever affected more deeply than I can ever comprehend.

Save your numbers, save your attempts to belittle a horrible event by painting it with political facts and figures, liberal or conservative or whatever, save your apathy--in fact, fuck your apathy. I don't give a damn about politics, I don't give a damn about comparing this event to others that came before or after, I don't give a damn about trends or agendas or anydamnedthing besides human life.

Innocent lives were lost. And they deserve to be remembered. They deserve to be mourned.