I remember I was in the sixth grade on 9/11/01. I was in first period and thinking how mondane the day was turning out to be. As I left the classroom, a buzz of rumors surrounded me. Apparently, there had been some grand bank robbery in New York, and everyone was talking about it. I remember thinking how strange it was that everyone was transfixed on this one event. I figured, “Bank robberies happen all the time, don’t they?” At the start of second period, the teacher revealed that the WTC had been attacked by airplanes. The room fell silent, save the sobs of a girl in the corner whom I later found out knew someone who worked in New York. I thought WTC… the two tall buildings that stood towering over the entire city of New York!? I had seen those buildings in so many movies as a proud trademark of that great city. I felt a little nauseated and felt as if I were a zombie the rest of the school day. No one was happy, and no one smiled. We were old enough to understand the tragedy that had occured. Walking from the bus stop, I felt an overwhelming sense of fear. Every noise I heard sounded like the roaring engine of an airplane come to continue the violence in our section of the country. When I got home, my dad was watching the news. I saw the horrifying images of the burning and collapsing buildings and those on the ground staring in utter disbelief. I joined him and became glued to the news coverage. From then on, I became somewhat of an obsessive with New York and the events of 9/11. My heart hurt for those lost on that day and still does. I have since visited New York and Ground Zero. Eventhough I did not witness the events firsthand, I believe they have changed the world and my view on life.