Tuesday Morning, 8:00 Am
It was the second week of my Senior year of high school. I got ready for school just like normal. When I got to school, everything was normal. People were talking a bit, but I didn't really pay much attention. Then I got to my first period and my teacher had the news on. They kept showing footage of a plane crashing into a skyscraper. I was shocked. How could a pilot lose control or not pay attention enough to crash like that? We were all talking about it after a few minutes, but it didn't really hit us. Being in California, we were a little late on things. Then the second plane hit. How could two pilots make the same mistake? And then it all unraveled. As news came in, it became very apparent that our lives wouldn't be the same. Everyone was afraid to laugh or be happy. No one made jokes. Everyone was either sad or angry. We had terrorism drills at my school. As if al-Qaeda was targeting a SoCal high school. It seemed so surreal and, at times, stupid and pointless. A couple friends of mine that had never even been outside the state, let alone the country, were threatened because their family's backgrounds were called into question. I may not have been there or known anyone that was directly affected by it, but those attacks changed my life for good.