Well, I was 11 at the time... So I was a bit confused.
But even still. I never understood how one could be angered by a war-related attack. I can understand saddened. I never understood anger. Which is odd, I can become angered over some pretty stupid shit.
I can't explain it, really. I'm mentally exhausted right now, and my wit is almost nonexistent for the time being. I can just say my views on war are... I don't know. Strange? Unorthodox.
Well, that was a weak response... Sorry for that. My mind is far too focused on other matters for me to put together any sort of satisfiable answer to anything but what is consuming my mind right now. But, once I regroup, you can expect me assuming the role of a self-humored asshole yet again.
"Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius will be instantly sublimated, but if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat, you might survive, permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. But if you do go gas, there's nothing you can do if the air that was once you is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules of the enemy's former body. Big-kid-tested, motherf--ker approved."
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