It has been twelve years since that unforgettable day, yet I live with its reminders day after day after day.  All I have to do is look down and see my paralyzed limbs.

I was injured in the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in New York City, New York: I was in the south tower when the plane slammed into it; I was on one of the floors nearest the blast.  That was the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital a week later.

As I began to piece together what had happened (based on what others had told me), I broke down into uncontrollable sobbing.  It was a miracle I had even managed to survive such a horrific event; but more horror was to come: I found out that I was permanently paralyzed from the waist on down, as the result of extensive injuries to my spinal column.

I would have to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair.  I would never walk again.

Now flash forward twelve years.  I have since gotten my life back, but it is no longer the same.  I still have reaccurring nightmares or flashbacks; I no longer trust people who are from the Middle (or Far) East countries, and I find it hard to forgive those who support terrorism in any way or form.  People like that disgust me and they deserve to burn in hell for what they did to me and the nearly 3,000 others who died at their hands.  

I am trying to move on, but emotionally, I am a wreck.  I can't watch the international or national news because of what happened to me and I am undergoing counseling, but it really doesn't seem to be helping any because I am still suffering.

~To be continued!~