It was before I even was born. At a time I didn’t exist, it happened. It is historical, but not as a great event. As something terrible.
I have heard the story, looked up a lot of the facts, conspiracy theories and even heard of the people who were there telling it. It’s something that is in everyone’s background, everyone alive at that point remember with an intensity and a confusion, like they still couldn’t believe it happened. You don’t except that sort of things to push onto all your normal things that your day usually consisted of. They all remember how it was for them, what they heard had happened that night and in which situation they found out. That night seems like a messy night. A lot of unexplained things. No one got it. They still have trouble getting it, but for another reason than lack of information. It’s still a lack of understanding.
When people describe this night, it’s not like when they describe protests against the king hundred of years ago, where a lot of people lost their lives as well. (That was the weirdest comparison. I’m sorry, it just came up.)
No one ever describes this cheerfully. Well, people don’t tend to do when it’s catastrophes, but this is so serious for everyone. You can feel their mood lowering and their mind getting darker as it’s filled with pictures of planes, fire and smoke. This was a tragedy, and because it was so unexpected people still remember it. Because it was so awakening people still don’t get it. Like, life can really be like this. It can be screaming that sometimes are hard to hear cause of explosions. But after the explosion it’s awfully quiet. You don’t want to open your eyes ever again, to see the hot, black, sticky smoke fall off and reveal what the explosions left behind of the screaming humans, that now just are bones. So many people lost friends that day. Or family. Just persons they would see for dinner after work. Not persons whose corpses they would identity at a hospital. Companies lost great workers they had big plans for. People lost their dreams. People lost their life, and now I don’t talk about those who were there at the accident. But those who were left behind, in a fire that took hours to calm down. In a America that still aren’t calm about this. The civilisation lost something too. I don’t know if it was some kind of hope, some kind of happiness. Some kind of unknowing that they will never get back. The civilisation got hurt that day. And it’s still not recovered. It has scars that will always be black, even in the brightest light you will see them clearly marked.
“It is all dizzy in my head. I remember looking out from my office, to one of the buildings that people were escaping from. So many thousands of people, running for their lives in hundreds of stairs. It was so much panic, so chaotic.
And then I saw a human falling out from a window. Another one. And even more of them. Were people throwing them out of the building? Did they try to get their way through and those people just were in the way?
No, I realised. These people had given up. These people were jumping.”
My mom told me that story. She wasn’t the watcher, but a person she knew was. So many people. All the way to Sweden people get affected.
I can not describe with words how horrible this is. I am a crier. I cry to sad books, movies, everything fictional. It’s a little comforting to know it isn’t real. This would never happen in reality.
But people are in reality, so things that can’t even get described enough horrifying in nightmares can still happen in reality. Like the dark secrets in history I told yesterday. Like World War II. Like this. People consider Albert Einstein a genius. This is something he have said:
“Humans invented the atom bomb but no mouse in the world would ever construct a mouse trap.”
It has been seventeen years and a day. Let it be seventeen more. Let it be a whole forever.
But never during that time, let this happen again.
Bye for today.