The bombings in Boston yesterday left me feeling everything. I woke up this morning hoping yesterday's events were only a nightmare, or figment of my imagination. They weren't.
When the bombings in Madrid happened, I was sad but it was not my home.
When the bombings in London happened, I was hurt but it was not my home.
When 9/11 struck, I was outraged but it was not my home.
Boston is my home. It's where I raise my baby, walk my dog, run my business and live my life. The location of the explosions are a part of my weekly routine and once an area where I worked.
I'm scared. I'm angry. And, most of all, I'm disappointed.
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