I was born and raised in South Florida, and one of the perks that came with that was being only a short drive from Orlando. I’ve gone there at least three to five times a year for as long as I can remember as I’m sure most of my friends have as well. We’ve gone for Disney or Universal, for school trips, for sports tournaments, for conventions, for work, for family. For many Floridians, Orlando can be considered a second home, especially since so many of my graduating high school class went on to attend UCF. On the weekend of the Orlando shooting, a friend and I were visiting another friend of ours who was staying at UCF for summer classes, and everything that unfolded has felt so surreal.

1. The calm before the storm

After a day at Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure, my friends and I decided to go out to downtown Orlando. We weren’t out long, just to eat, considered going to a club, but ended up going back to the apartment. I was dying to go to a club in Orlando, to the point where I was already texting someone to make plans for my next trip up.

2. The shock

I woke up at around 10, glanced at my phone, and saw so many news alerts I had to scroll through. I thought back to how many I had gotten during the Paris attacks, and thought to myself with little emotion, probably another shooting. But then I saw Orlando in all of the news alerts, I had about 50 texts from my mom asking me to call her, and my friends came in the room with all of the same.

3. The confusion

Still early, five of us sat in the living room of the apartment with our phones, reading different incoming news updates and speculations. Why was this even happening? Why here? Why now? We could only wonder whether it was a coincidence that it was at a gay club or if it was on purpose. Half of us thought it could be a terrorist, the other half was still suspicious. Slowly our friends started posting on Facebook, either speculating like everyone else or just simply heartbroken. In the mayhem of the news, we saw that blood banks were asking for rare blood types, and two of our friends went to go wait in line to donate their O+ blood.

4. The disbelief

Three of us decided to go eat around noon, and everything seemed so normal. Almost too normal. We were still receiving news updates on our phones, but everyone around us was calm and happy, going about their everyday lives, as were we. I remembered hearing the news of the Paris attacks when I was at school and becoming overwhelmed with grief. But this time, it was happening literally ten minutes away, and it just didn’t seem real. We were just five minutes away from the club the night before, but here we were, out eating brunch in a packed restaurant. When we got the alert that the president was speaking, it felt like it wasn’t real, like this was happening somewhere else. After eating, we walked around the dead UCF campus and came across one girl beginning a memorial outside the student union, and asked if we wanted to sign the #PrayForOrlando posters. None of us knew what to say, taking each of us a good five minutes to come up with a short sentence. We were still in such shock, there were simply no words for what had happened.

5. The chaos

When we returned to the apartment around three, news alerts had died down. Our friends were back, but hadn’t donated any blood; the lines were over four hours long, and they had signed in to donate hours later. People were standing outside in over 90 degree heat, and local businesses around the donation centers had decided to donate food, water, and fans to those who were waiting to donate blood. We kept hearing that the hospitals and donation centers were understaffed and under-equipped. One of our friends, who was in an EMT program, was called in to volunteer. As all of this was happening, the power went out in the apartment, and we found out it was out in almost the entire city. As my friend and I were heading out of the city to go back home, we couldn’t even get gas until we were outside of the city because of the power outage.

6. The anxiety

Once I was home, I began talking to my mom about what happened, but within 10 minutes I suddenly didn’t want to talk about it anymore. When I was in Orlando, I didn’t feel like anything had happened, but suddenly it seemed big. I knew a lot of people had died, but it was dawning on me what it meant to be the biggest mass shooting in the U.S. It felt like such a local issue, something that all of my friends from home could relate to because we all knew so many people living in Orlando, but I saw all of my friends from school who live nowhere near Florida posting about what happened on Facebook. Everyone had something political to say, and it didn’t feel right this time. Everyone was talking about gun control or terrorism or what we need to do to prevent this but I was just thinking about all of my friends that it could have been. People from all over the place started changing their profile pictures to “We Are Orlando,” and it felt surreal. I thought to myself, no, you’re not Orlando; you’re from Connecticut, New Jersey, California, etc. You don’t know anyone from here. I wasn’t mad about everyone’s responses, just overwhelmed; something that happened in my backyard and affecting all of my friends from home was suddenly a worldwide story, groundbreaking news, a political discussion, and it wasn’t sitting well with me at all because I hadn’t even had time to digest what had happened.

7. The fear

I suddenly never wanted to go out again. I had gone to my first club in D.C., and had been dying to go to one in Florida all summer, and suddenly I was terrified to leave my house at night. I thought of all of my friends who could’ve realistically been affected, the ones who frequent gay clubs, the ones who go to Orlando every weekend, the ones who live there. I thought about how these shootings are so common, and happen in so many ordinary places: from elementary schools to college campuses, movie theaters, marathons, concerts, clubs. I couldn’t even bring myself to go to the ATM that night. I’m still terrified to leave my house. I’m still reading the victim list over and over and making sure I didn’t know anybody. I don’t really know what to do, how to react to what happened, and I’m not sure if I ever will.

8. The grief

Late at night, still not even 24 hours after what had happened, I couldn’t go to sleep over my anxiety. I had ignored reading anything from anyone who didn’t live in Florida until that point, but I decided to finally scroll through my phone and see what people were saying. The enormity of what happened really sunk in when I saw what was happening around the world. When I brought myself to watch the Snapchat coverage, I started sobbing uncontrollably. There were candlelight vigils and ceremonies all over the country for what was happening here. When I saw what was happening at the White House, I truly lost it. I was watching my second home, the capitol, mourning what was happening in my first home, and I realized how small the world felt. It was still surreal, still odd and overwhelming, but I felt the love. I’m still trying to come to terms with what has happened and what’s going to happen as this story continues. I can’t find the words to describe how I’m feeling, but I’m in awe of the love and support from around the world directed here, at home.