Anger boils down to sadness

On the morning of Sept. 11 I was angry.
I remember watching the news in the dark living room with my mom and dad. I can’t remember where my older brother was — he might have been sleeping. My dad sat stone cold in his chair. My mom cried.
Anger built up inside me — toward my mom — I couldn’t understand why she cried. Yet I know now and knew then that my mother is the type or person who cries during commercials. So I took comfort sitting next to my dad and being quiet.
I got mad at radio talk show hosts, anchors and the media in general for their coverage. I wasn’t a journalist at the time.
My best friend, who graduated from Chico State, called me and asked if I could stay home with her. My parents said no.
I walked into my first period junior English class to find the teacher and all the students sitting on the floor watching the news. It was a relief that I didn’t have to pretend Sept. 11 was just a normal day. However, our teacher made us write in our journal about how we felt. Later I read my entry, only to find rants of how our government brought on the attack.
At my second period “Algebra Two” class the teacher wouldn’t let us watch the news and made us do math. I was pissed.
That whole day I was putting the blame in the wrong place. I was 16. I was angry about a lot of things. Sept. 11 was so horrible I didn’t know how to show how upset I was, so I got angry.
Now I’m not so angry. I’m sad. I’m sad that thousands of Americans died that day, changing the lives of their families and friends. I’m sad that we started a war against Afghanistan, killing innocent people. I’m sad that we started a war against Iraq using false information and reasoning, killing even more innocent people. I’m sad that thousands of U.S. troops died in those wars.
I’m sad the U.S. governments and other countries didn’t learn as quickly as I did that they were pointing their fingers in the wrong direction.
Up to now I’ve been lucky — none of my family or close friends have gone to war in Afghanistan or Iraq nor have they died in terrorist attacks.
My cousin is scheduled to leave for Iraq, most likely before I’ll see him again.
I don’t support the government’s decision to start or continue the Iraq war, and I don’t support my cousin’s decision to join the Army during the war. But I still love him.
Now I’m just sad —and a bit angry — the government has taken Sept. 11 and used it to attack more buildings, more innocent people and create more grief.