My name is Julie Brooklyn, and I died on September 11th, 2001, at 9:33 am, the day before my birthday. Two thousand, nine hundred, seventy-six people died; I was one of those people. Nothing was, is, or will ever be as bad as what it really was, to see thousands dead around you.
When my mom was 35, I was only 13. She told me she was going to die soon. I didn't understand, and I had to know what was going on. In our basement, we had a box full of my mom's old belongings. I knew she had a couple of old diaries from when she was about my age; I decided I was going to go rummaging through it.
I went through the old box. Inside I found an old clock, 8 diaries, and a jewelry box full of old rings, earrings, and a diamond necklace. I grabbed one of the diaries titled "Witchcraft," I thought that would be the one to read.
I figured out in the diary that my great-great-grandmother had an old friend from school. It said they used to be in an old book club, but the only reason they created their book club was to talk about and practice witchcraft. It said that my great-great-grandmother's friend was a witch! A real witch! Well, it turns out that these two friends got into a fight, and the friend put a curse on my family, saying everyone was to die exactly 25 hours before their 36th birthday.
9:03: I knew, right away. I knew it was my time. I am 35. I would have turned 36 at 10:33 am, September 12th. I knew... I was going to die in half an hour.
There were about 400 police and firefighters around me, along with pounds and pounds of smoke, ash, blood and tears. I couldn't see anything. Not one thing but paper flying about, and smoke near me. I would occasionally see hints of red as I sprinted past, but I couldn't stop to help. I had to keep moving. Keep moving away from all of these people. My side started hurting, but I didn't stop; I couldn't stop, I just wouldn't. I would not hurt anyone else. The only way to prevent this from happening was to leave.
You... I... We will never forget that day. I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that having shared their love has enriched our lives.
You will never know what I went through. No matter how raw, gruesome, repulsive or horrifying any images or tapes are, you will never know what it feels like to wound so many people just for being there. I died, knowing I had just killed thousands of people. I killed exactly 2,976 babies, children, teens, and adults. Some of them probably died panicking. Maybe some even from heart attacks- or maybe some were ill, saw the building tumbling just above their head, and left- left their body and went someplace better. Somewhere where you don't have to worry about buildings crushing you.
Crushing, squishing, splatter. However you say it, picture it, hear it, watch it, it's not that way. It's worse. I injured over 10,000 people. 10,000! Some of them died from infection, and some from blood loss. Some could have even killed themselves, because their families died. No one should ever have to do that; they wanted to hurt themselves.
I was Julie. I am now a shadow, a ghost, wondering what my purpose is. I finally found out. I now realize. My purpose is to speak my story. My purpose is to have you discover me. Or, at least, what's left of me. I used to think I was there just to be there. Like I was there to erase the empty space. Maybe like a filling in apple pie. But if I wasn't there, it would be missing the apples. I now know. I know that my purpose in life is to have you read about me, know about me. My purpose in life is you.
