Essay Preview: AaaReport this essayWhy do terrorists kill in the name of religion? I still dont get it. The recent bomb blasts in New Delhi claimed several lives, but could not kill the spirit of the country and its people. The 13th of September started like any other day and I was unaware that it would turn out to be the most horrifying day of my life, a devastating experience I would never want repeated.
I was in the office at around 6:40 pm when I got news of the serial blasts. I rushed to Connaught Place, the nearest location of the blasts, along with other reporters from the office. It was 7 pm when I reached the place and a thick cloud of smoke greeted me, through which I could see a man and a woman lying in a pool of blood. The rubbish bin had been ripped apart and a rickshaw stood with its roof caved in.
It was impossible to believe that the Central Park, where I was standing, was the favourite spot for youngsters to chill out. Everywhere I looked, there were bodies, like clothes left out to dry. People ran helter-skelter and I could hear cries of agony in the air around me. It was a horrifying scene with the air clogged with the smell of blood, smoke and chemicals.
I felt as if I was in a battlefield and could barely control my emotions as I moved chaotically to help others lift the bodies of the injured into passing cars and ambulances. For the first time, I encountered the helpful spirit of the citizens. People with expensive cars stopped to call out others to load the wounded into their vehicles, without thinking of the plush upholstery getting soiled with blood. At one point, I heard a grievously injured young man telling the person carrying him on his shoulder to kindly call his home and tell his family that he was all right, only to collapse dead a moment later in front of my unbelieving eyes. My own T-shirt was stained in blood and I was asked by many if I needed assistance, but I explained that the stains came from carrying the injured into waiting cars.
The injured and the wounded were not simply a group; those with an average weight were more vulnerable; however, there were more people on the other side of the street with that mean face-sized guy holding a machete than was a group of young men with that “frostbite.” A recent study by researchers at the University of San Francisco said that more than half of all individuals with low BMI suffered from heart disease.
If this was just me and a few friends who felt a chill after my sudden change of heart, then perhaps I’m missing something. Maybe, instead, it was because I was the one “who didn’t understand.”
After I realized that my life was no longer “normal” without my healthy and well-adjusted, healthy, young family and my friends, I was ready to embrace the healthy man in me. I was ready to face reality and be open when it came to my own, and I was ready to admit defeat, because I knew that the man behind my t-shirt and my shirt and my shirt and my t-shirt and my self-esteem would change in the future if I only acknowledged just how weak and self-absorbed and hurt I was.
After feeling that there was no need to pretend my friends were weak and self-absorbed, I walked out into the street to make my way back home.
So what’s the world going to think of me that I’m just a sick loser with a heart defective T?
I wasn’t the only one feeling weak and self-absorbed. No one, however, was feeling “good.” No one, however, was feeling “different.” There were probably many.
That’s why I’m proud and sorry. I’m also proud of giving my life so much and being the person I am. I want nothing more than for people to find out I’m all right, but even then, I can’t shake that feeling. I think I finally did what needed to be said to make my feelings clear to everyone, even now. That’s what makes all my efforts all about work more meaningful and fulfilling without my friends.
Now that I want to make some extra effort, I want my family to get along with me as if I were a completely different person.
I’ve worked for most of my life to make sure nobody’s left behind and that no one’s feeling sad. I’ve worked to make sure everyone knows I have the time and talent to be anything but the guy in me, even though this year, those people are looking for something they can relate to. That’s why I decided to make things more meaningful with my past and new friends instead of trying to blame them for my flaws. I decided to make life simpler on them, instead of blaming them because they’re stuck at it.
I also knew people were still finding it hard for me to admit I could no longer handle all I had to offer, which made me feel like I was on a mission to make someone happy so they couldn’t know I was bad. What they saw when they saw me in my normal outfit, their smiles flashing across their