At around 9 o'clock in the evening, I make my way to a friend's apartment to watch the election results in a fun group setting. Hillary is winning and we are making calls to help voters on the West Coast find their way to the polls before they all close. We are so ready to celebrate not having to witness Donald Trump's offensive campaign anymore. Finally, it will all be over and we won't have to anxiously await the election anymore. An event invitation is circling around Facebook to go point and laugh at the Trump Towers on Riverside on Wednesday morning.

As the evening progresses, Trump wins so many states that anxiety begins to fill the room. We make tea and start praying. I think about how amazing it is that all of our different religions are coming together to pray for the future of our country. With a warm feeling of community, we keep watching and eventually realize what is happening. Everyone becomes quiet and simply stares at the TV in disbelief. We wait for hours for the last seven states to be announced, but eventually, my friends decide to go to sleep and I make my way back to my apartment.

It is on my way back home that Donald Trump is elected 45th President of the United States.

I check several sources on Google to make sure this is really happening. I start crying, but eventually fall asleep at around 5 AM. I get up three hours later and leave my apartment to go to class at Columbia University. Everyone on the subway is glaring down at the floor. Not a single smile is to be seen. My professor at Columbia apologizes to the class that we will not be discussing the election. He says he himself is too upset about it. "I had to smoke a joint last night", he says jokingly.

After class, I make my way back to Lincoln Center to meet a friend who had texted me, saying she was too depressed to get out of bed. We spend an hour trying to make sense of what has happened. After we part, I run into one of my mentors from Juilliard. He gives me a hug, not saying a word. We keep walking. On my way to school, I see an older gentleman beaming as he proudly crosses the street. He's wearing a 'Make America Great Again' hat.

I arrive at Juilliard to a group of about a hundred students, faculty and staff members watching President Obama's speech live on a huge screen. Students entering the building are greeted with hugs by various staff members. Several students of color are standing in the lobby hugging each other sobbing. We meet with one of our professors. His first statement: "I don't know what to say to you all." He proceeds to check in with how we are doing and we brainstorm together about how we can lighten the mood at Juilliard. We spend our class period expressing how we feel about the election. We discuss what lies within the president's power and which of Trump's campaign promises he will be able to execute and which are less likely to become a reality. When asked how he is doing, one student simply replies: "Horrible". In a gathering organized by our faculty and staff, a student asks our president what the school will do, if the government forces them to report Muslim students. Our president assures the students that he won't let Trump's presidency impact the school's moral code.

I make my way to a gig on the East Side, which takes me over an hour, because roads are blocked due to various demonstrations. Eventually, I get out of the cab and continue by foot, because traffic is standing still. As I'm warming up in my green room at the Waldorf Astoria, I suddenly realize I'm standing in the same room I met Michelle and Barack Obama in two years ago. I stare at the wall where once upon a time, the Obamas shook my hand welcoming me into the country as a newly naturalized citizen. Now, I stare blankly at the wall, pondering about all the things that have happened over the past two years, thinking about what the country's next course of action should be. After one hour of playing, my back starts hurting. I only got three hours of sleep and I forgot to have a meal that day. After five hours of playing, I make my way back to the West Side by cab. We pass several demonstrations. People are hovering in front of various Trump Towers vehemently protesting Trump's presidency. We pass the Hilton hotel in midtown Manhattan. A ridiculous amount of cops are guarding the building holding big riffles.

I eventually get home at around midnight and try to fall asleep. There's a loud helicopter hovering above my building. I can hear the yelling of the protestors as I fall asleep and I wonder: Is this what a normal day will be like for the next four years?

Many have said that this wasn't a normal election. It turns out the response has not been normal either. In red states, people might be celebrating, but in New York, we are mourning. Trump wanted to build a wall to divide us, but within New York, our mourning of the election has brought us together. We continue to cope with the disappointment and fear that these past few days have brought us, though we come together to support each other, because we really are, and always will be, stronger together.