2001-09-13 - 1:28 a.m.

How the fuck did so many people get better already? We aren't supposed to have dealt with this yet. Thousands of people are currently buried under god knows how many tons of debris that was once two of the most famous skyscrapers ever, and there were people all over today who maybe mentioned it twice to kind of recap the latest news.

No one in my department had the looks of horror and disbelief they had yesterday when they heard about it. The only thing that really shocked anyone was when I recounted a diary entry from Riotgirl718, who watched it all happen from her office building, written at 8:50 yesterday morning that simply read:

"oh my god.

a plane just flew into the world trade center. i mean. no maneuvering.

just flew right into it.

it's burning."

These are some of the first recorded words on the incident. And more than many of the other things I've read from others on Diaryland, this hit me hard. It's so simple, and almost innocent. Because at the time, there was no way to know what was going to happen as a result. At the time, all it was was a plane that flew into the WTC. The fear is there. The feeling that this wasn't an accident, too. And I can see what it was like for the people around when it happened.

Then I look at the people at work. Where the biggest topics of conversation are that Joan (the horribly insensitive person from yesterday) was fired today, and Erica, the 16-year-old part-timer, was all giggly after flirting with the new grease monkey janitor. In New York, meager numbers like twelve are used to describe the number of survivors found so far in a building that held thousands, while here, people in the department were laughing about a girl's gigglefits over a boy. And I laughed right along with them.

I feel like such an ass. How could I already be happy about… anything? Though one part of my life is going incredibly well, and solidified in the wake of yesterday's tragedy, that wasn't something I found myself chuckling to myself about, because I was full of a terrible longing alongside it. But at work, away from all of the news and awful reports, that slowly melted away as I listened to music, smiled to myself about my ever-growing typing speed, and just listened to the silliness around me.

And it felt wrong. I'm not supposed to feel good right now. Not while people are still trapped beneath the wreckage. Not while buildings around it are still falling. Not while rescue workers are still putting themselves at risk to save the few people still alive in there. I came home, and I talked to people still rocked by it. I reread diary entries about people who were there, people who could have been, people who know people who could have been. People hundreds of miles away who had nothing of their lives touched, but who are angry and hurt and can't totally grasp why. And that's when it starts to come back. I remember the people. People everywhere who have been hit by this, no matter how far away. Even as a group, we are a group of individuals who have, each and every one of us, been hurt by this. And now the feeling comes back, and I remember where it came from.

And personally, I feel better knowing I haven't lost it.