I Want To Believe

I guess I've always had a vivid imagination. The kind that tends to run away with me when I give something a little too much room to get a good stride.

I'd left the subject of 9/11 behind me. I've watched all the movies, read all the materials and jumped to all the same conclusions. It all seemed so plausible. I mean, how can so many people make the same wrong conclusions, right?

But I left it all behind after I read a column in the New York Times that said we should let 9/11 go. That it was over. That we should mourn no more.

I think we were all New Yorkers that day. Maybe those New Yorkers who were there that day disagree, but it hurt the same way watching it on T.V. that it did standing in the shadows of those two big monuments to American freedom and ingenuity. It all hurt the same. I was angry for a long time. I cried a lot. I wanted to find answers. All I found were more questions.

Countless shows and articles and movies worked only to keep the fire lit in my belly about 9/11.

Sometimes, I really do believe what the 9/11 Commission report found. I believe it was a group of highly organized terrorist with a grudge to bear on America. I believe that because we grew too confident in our industrial and military might, we grew blind to the aggression that our American egos had stoked abroad. I believe that we're not as smart as we once thought we were and that we're not the only ones willing to do what it takes to make a point.

I want to believe.
I want to believe that our government didn't have anything to do with it.
I want to believe that we were attacked because we are arrogant, fat, unethical.
I want to believe.
But I can't. I can't wrap my head around those concepts.

What do I do? What do we all do?


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