Just another 9/11 post

The thing about the 9/11 anniversary is that it’s a celebration, for the most part, of good triumphing over evil.

We lost too many lives. We lost way (and still too many) more of our military’s lives in the aftermath. We grieved and we feared and we prayed like we never prayed before.

And somehow, we got here.

Fourteen years ago, I was honestly wishing someone would drive a plane into the building I was in. Hated the job. The boss. The meeting I was in with community members I absolutely loathed.

But I loved my apartment on Mt. Washington and all the men in my life. I had great friends I could only see on the weekends (because, job). So, all hope wasn’t lost.

9/11 was probably the catalyst that sent me to D.C. like a young friend’s death catapulted my move to Florida.

Fourteen years later, I make twice as much money. I went from having never seen a beach, to living at one. I still work a lot of hours but I don’t have a tyrant throwing me shade at every available opportunity for being a different color than her. I still have plenty of gentlemen friends but they, like most of my BFFs, now live far, far away.

In any event, I generally feel like a fraud on 9/11 because of how badly I wanted off the earth’s axis when thousands of people were taken from us without that choice. But I think I’ve made the most of the extra time I’ve had. And while life isn’t what I thought it would be, it’s definitely mine to keep living the best way I can.

Tomorrow isn’t promised. But it’s implied. And that’s how we have to keep living, because not living that way made me feel like I was dying every day.

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