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Feeling the Collective Heart

I had initially refrained from writing anything 9-11, because the rest of the country would be doing just that. In classic youthful candour I assumed that the paranoia was only a product of media hype, and I viewed much of the grief with a sceptical eye. In the background, groups of college kids went on with their parties.
After reading some blogs I am no longer able to turn my face away. America (save those college kids who don't deserve residence, least of all citizenship) is holding its collective breath – a half breath – in shock, fear and pain. It evokes in me the feeling that one gets when we accidently slap a child too hard. It is strong cocktail of guilt for having ever doubted the authenticity of the pain, and the ice-cold feeling of being so utterly appalled that the child should have to experience something so stark…so real. We then chide ourselves for ever having doubted the pain, and for the additional hurt by inflicted by our scepticism.
Despite her often boisterous nature, America is but a child. Her history of a little more than 200 years makes her barely a toddler when compared to the more established civilisations like the Jews or the Chinese. It is because of her youth we see her wielding her new-found power without humility's restraint, often offending the older nations now made weak by time and history's circumstance. Yet it is in her youth we see her brazen idealism. She actually believes in the good of the individual – a utopian ideology…a dream at best. Though we don't often say it, deep inside us we hope for America to fulfill her dream, and grow up into a bringer of true hope to the rest of us.
Wipe your tears away America. We love you, even if it is in our muddled multi-cultural way. Even if we don't show it much.

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