Stanley Almodovar III, 23 years old

Amanda Alvear, 25 years old

Oscar A Aracena-Montero, 26 years old

Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33 years old

Antonio Davon Brown, 29 years old

Darryl Roman Burt II, 29 years old

Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28 years old

Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25 years old

Luis Daniel Conde, 39 years old

Cory James Connell, 21 years old

Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25 years old

Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32 years old

Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez, 31 years old

Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25 years old

Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26 years old

Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22 years old

Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22 years old

Paul Terrell Henry, 41 years old

Frank Hernandez, 27 years old

Miguel Angel Honorato, 30 years old

Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40 years old

Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19 years old

Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30 years old

Anthony Luis Laureanodisla, 25 years old

Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32 years old

Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21 years old

Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49 years old

Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25 years old

Kimberly Morris, 37 years old

Akyra Monet Murray, 18 years old

Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, 20 years old

Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25 years old

Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36 years old

Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32 years old

Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35 years old

Enrique L. Rios, Jr., 25 years old

Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, 27 years old

Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35 years old

Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz, 24 years old

Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24 years old

Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34 years old

Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33 years old

Martin Benitez Torres, 33 years old

Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega, 24 years old

Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37 years old

Luis S. Vielma, 22 years old

Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez, 50 years old

Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37 years old

Jerald Arthur Wright, 31 years old

I wake up and learn of the Orlando shooting on Facebook first thing in the morning, though allow myself a few minutes to read positive news before I dive into the latest tragedy. It often goes like that, like a timid child going for their first swim, taking in a big breath of fresh air to prepare for what follows. A few statuses, a scroll through Twitter. The mood shifts when I look more into the story, which ends up hitting home with sympathy unparalleled to any tragedy I've lived through thus far.

I dress slowly. It’s not ideal to panic underwater. I look in the mirror, seeing not myself, but rather how queer others will see me as, from my faux hawk to my beat face to my jeans and sneakers to my crop top. I look past myself and into my future at the moments I could be confronted, harassed, killed. If it proved more challenging to navigate the depths of a swimming pool, why am I diving into the ocean? Do I dress this way because I'm proud of my expression, or is it that I'm taunting my world, knowing I’m inevitably gonna be next on the hit list, and it's just a matter of time?

The Transgender Law Center releases a statement.

We're only out running two errands. We're going to the grocery store and picking up lunch. We’re undecided on what we want for lunch.

7. Jacob Tobia shares their thoughts in a Facebook post.

The victims of Orlando are more than victims. They're whole individuals -- beings who’ve been stripped from their loved ones, their family, their friends, their bodies, their Earth, their passions, their pursuits and an unforgivable amount of time.

It only took one person. It only took one gun. It only took one person and a gun for entire communities to be devastated, for the Earth beneath my feet to rattle me and the universe to our cores, for the sinking of millions of hearts, for the prompted tears of the innocent victims whose foul damages range from bullet wounds to bruised souls, for a great number of queer folks to call in sick to work that subsequent Monday, for my love to pour out for so many people including myself that Sunday, for the senseless internal debating of whether or not my identity is true as if I can simply wish it all away from having to cut so deeply and sting so prominently. It only took one angry, confused person and one military-grade gun.

After some chronic indecisiveness, my mom sees a Subway sign. We decide to go there. I realize my indecisiveness is because I don't feel hungry at all. My mom asks me why that is. It's Orlando. She makes a comment about his affiliation with ISIS. I hate where this is going. I spend 20 minutes exhausting myself expressing how personally impacted I am by the tragedy, how someone like me can’t really be expected to enjoy the ocean right now, the fact that the deadliest mass shooting in recent history is of my community, how they're queer people of color, going off tangent to express how I don't think him being Muslim should have anything to do with it and my conclusion reiterating how I'm more than certain this is the reason why I'm not hungry right now.

And so we go inside. I get a cup of coffee. We go home.

I attend an Orlando vigil the next day, not to say I wasn't scared. I get back from Trans Pride LA on Saturday night, not to say I wasn't visualizing the escape route I'd take if a gunman was to burst in. I finish writing my article the following morning. I take my time to reteach myself that the ocean is overall pretty indifferent, and not without its love, either. I think, I feel, I mourn, I go for a swim.