You can run but...

So I thought I could get through the day without people talking about
what day it was. I mean both my parents happened to call me "because
they hadn't heard from me in a while" and I didn't think twice about it
except that it was an odd coincidence. Then I went to the Young Adults
meeting at my church this evening. Leave it to the Catholics...

They decided to have a "quick little Sept 11th reflection" Everyone said
where they were that day. Everyone but me. I was too busy breathing.
Yes I still get the panic attacks. I remember exactly what the cloud of
smoke looked like. Yes I can still smell it. I can still feel the
buttons of my cold black Samsung Sprint flip phone that just wouldn't
fucking work!! No matter how hard I willed it to. I remember feeling
like a 2 year old lost in a burning building in a sea of people looking
for my mother and trying to call my father. Just to say I'm alive. Not
ok, but alive.

I didn't share because my reflection wouldn't be "quick" or "little" and
as my pulse raced I didn't really have a choice. The discussion leader
didn't press me to speak. Maybe he noticed that my face was red hot and
I was chewing on my hand and shaking. But luckily the subject turned to
Katrina. With over 10,000 Louisiana refugees moving to Chicago, maybe
next time we reflect on a tragedy someone else will be in the hotseat,
and I can go back to my blissful denial.

It's the reason I quit my cushy government job to become an actor. So
basically its the reason I'm here in Chicago... Seeking refuge and
community in this church group... Who in turn pour salt on my wounds.
Its ironic how things run full circle like that.

I'm exhausted, I feel like I ran a mile tonight. I'm not writing all
this to make any of you worry. I'm just sharing the dark side of myself
to be honest.

Besides, there are a lot of people worse off than me. Lets all say a
little prayer for them.