For everyone, but me, it is a day of mourning. For everyone, but me, it is a day of shock and terror, pain and fear. For me it is the day of my birth.
When I attend a memorial service I remain somber but inside of me, I remember that day with almost joy.
Yes, it was terrible what happened, and I’m selfish to feel the way I do. But if you had lived my life, if you knew who I was, until that day,you might understand.
Of course, for you to understand I would have to reveal my real history. My real name, and all the bits and pieces of my life.
And I have never done it, never will do it.
For the person who woke up that morning was not the person who lived that day. The person I am today was born on the very day of that disaster. It was that disaster which afforded me birth.
If that disaster never happened, if the world hadn’t been tossed upside down, I would not exist.
And considering who and what I am now, the magnificent life I have now, it is not in me to mourn.