Ten Years.

There's been a flag hanging in my bedroom window for the last ten years.

I won't tell you what I was doing that day.

I can't.

I remember every single detail and I've tried to get it down so many times, but I can't. So I just won't.

Ten years ago, I was a couple months shy of 15, and the whole world changed around me. It broke me, and it took a lot of time to recover from that. Like most of the country, I was confused and angry and vengeful. I wanted those responsible to be taken down, because surely that would make everything stop feeling so wrong.

There has been ugliness in the last ten years. Fear and dishonesty and mistrust. There has also been heroism. Strength. Courage. Hope.

This is all far from eloquent, I know, but it's honest. I still haven't made my peace with that day. I can't look at the images, I can't watch the video, not because I want to pretend it didn't happen, but because I will never forget. All of that makes me sick and angry and panicked, and that's not how I choose to remember this day. As time passed, I realized that I needed to choose what kind of person I was going to become in a post 9-11 world, and I chose to become a better one. I let go of the anger. I let go of the need for closure that would never come. I got out into the the world determined to live in it, because that was the best way to honor the fallen and the fighting, and started looking for ways to create positive change.

That's what I'm going to do today. It's what I'm going to do tomorrow, and the day after that. I'm going to live and love and leave everything better than when I found it. I'm going to let people know that they matter to me.

Honor the fallen. Honor the heroes, sung and unsung. And live.