On September 10, 2001, my uncle, who was my godfather and my father's best friend, lost his battle with brain cancer.
On September 8, 2001, I was mis-diagnosed with epilepsy and put on some horrible anti-psychotics.
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On September 11, 2001, I sat in Aerospace Fundamentals in West Hall at RPI, watching my professor predicting the buildings' collapse.
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On September 12, 2001, I watched men throw beer bottles at my Sikh friend from a moving pickup truck, simply because he wore a turban.
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I do not ever want to hear some garbage about how my generation doesn't understand the impact of that day. No bandwidth for that shit.
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My friends and I would have been in the first group of draftees. Don't tell me we didn't understand sacrifice, the global situation.
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Military recruiters were all over campus that summer. I very nearly signed up for the air force to fly in B-1s.
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My generation is the one left to pick up the mess. And we're doing it with almost no resources and almost no support.
End of conversation
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