Almost every American I have met since last Thursday has asked me about the London bombings, or drawn parallels between 7/7 and 9/11 (they never care that we think of dates as 7 July and 11 September, they just assume that we do it the way they do it).
I've kept in touch with the news in the UK via BBCi in a way I never have done before whilst abroad.
I don't know how to react to all this.
I don't know what reactions I should have. I can't let it go, can't just put it out of my mind. I haven't reached that media saturation point that people at home probably have reached. I haven't had the opportunity to mourn through silence the way everyone else has. I haven't laid flowers, although I shall when I get back to London despite the fact that I have never felt the need to before and I've lived through plenty of terrorist atrocities committed in my country. Hell, I've even heard the bombs go off.
And I still don't know how to react. I'm still thrashing about in the emotional dark, wondering what the fuck I feel. I feel homesick when I never did before. I feel disconnected. I feel like I want to crawl into a small corner and not talk to a soul for a goodly long time. What can I say about it that doesn't sound trite and pointless?
UPDATE: Thank you all, for such lovely supportive comments. This morning I do feel like I've regained some equilibrium – I read Tom's post about the two minute silence last night, and it made me cry, which was rather therapeutic as tears often are.
I do very much appreciate all the kindness and insight shown. You lot are just the best.
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