So I went down to Ground Zero yesterday. I'm not sure what I thought that was going to do for me.

I just needed to know a couple of things: I needed try to get closer to the rubble and feel if my guys were intact somewhere. And I needed to let them know I was there. I'm not leaving them or what's left of their bodies alone, trapped under that.

I heard people talking about the skyline. How they miss the skyline. To tell you the truth, I could give a shit about the skyline. I thought those buildings were obnoxious to start with and frankly, it freaked me out when I would ride the elevator up to Windows.

I need to know that my guys died right away. I need to know that they weren't trapped and scared or in pain. I want proof that they died in that incinerator that is still smoking, even today.

In truth, Ground Zero didn't look nearly as bad yesterday as I thought it would. The area down there hardly smells anymore, at least I didn't notice it, although I heard the tourists complaining.

I still haven't dreamt. I can't sleep through the night. Last night I got up at 4AM and organized my room.

I have no interest in speaking to anyone. I have no interest in going out. I have no interest in reading anything other than the newspaper or the Drudge Report nor watching TV other than news.

I find myself easily annoyed with people who speak too loud or that I see laughing on the streets or in stores.

I am pissed off at Halloween decorations that I see up around me.

It's a constant struggle for me concentrate. I read something and then I read it again and then I plug my ears and read it again. I can't remember anything I did from previous weeks other than work.

I just don't care anymore. I have a headache and I'm tired and I don't care.

I care about the people left to go on. I worry that they are not doing okay. I wonder what they are telling their children who must be asking questions about missing parents by now? I wonder how they will get through Thanksgiving, and then Christmas?

I wonder how we will all get through Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I wonder what we will do, when it snows, and not a piece of my friends' flesh or bones has come out of that enormous, smoking mound.

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