Embedded Files
June 14th at 8:00 PM · Pugh Theater, Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts, Orlando
Production Inquiries: theworldmaybeflatauditions@gmail.com
Production Inquiries: theworldmaybeflatauditions@gmail.com
Non-commercial production supporting Central Florida LGBTQ+ charities
Presented by The Legacy Project in partnership with Seventeen Wishes Inc.
Non-commercial production supporting Central Florida LGBTQ+ charities
Presented by The Legacy Project in partnership with Seventeen Wishes Inc.
The World May Be Flat
The World May Be Flat
The World May Be Flat is an intimate, two-character drama about survival—and everything that comes after. Drawn from survivor testimony and lived experience in the wake of Pulse, the play follows Noah, a survivor living in Orlando, as he struggles to process trauma, grief, and the increasing pressure to move on ten years later. Now in a relationship with Jagger, a younger partner shaped by a different cultural and political reality, Noah finds himself frozen in amber—caught between the life he lost and the one he is trying to build.
Set entirely in their apartment, the play unfolds through sharp, emotionally charged dialogue that blends humor, tension, and vulnerability. As the two clash over LGBTQ+ identity, politics, and what it means to heal, deeper truths begin to surface—about survivor’s guilt, internalized shame, and the isolating experience of carrying trauma in a world that increasingly expects silence.
Rather than revisiting the tragedy itself, The World May Be Flat explores the aftermath: the disorientation of being unable to forget while everything around you moves forward —and what happens when a broader cultural and political climate seeks to silence LGBTQ+ identity altogether. The play explores the meaning of memory and memorialization, giving voice to the burden of carrying grief in a culture where some believe there is a “correct” way to mourn —and where expressing that grief on one’s own terms can lead to judgment, silencing, and attack.
The play offers no easy answers. Instead, it presents a deeply human portrait inspired by lived experiences. It asks what it means to survive—and what healing looks like when the world has already decided you should be fine.
The Reason
The origin of this work is deeply personal.
In 2016, I was living in Orlando and had been to Pulse on several occasions. I was not there the night of the shooting, and I want to be clear about that. But two people I cared deeply about—my roommate and someone I had been in a relationship with—were there. They both survived, but that night still changed everything. Even from the outside, I was shaken in a way I did not fully understand at the time. I felt unsafe in my own city. I was overwhelmed by the fear that people I loved could be gone at any moment. And if that was the level of pain I felt from the periphery, I could not begin to comprehend what it must have been like for those inside.
In the immediate aftermath, there was unity. There was support. We told each other we would get through it together.
But the truth is, we didn’t.
After a few weeks, maybe a month, the support faded. The world moved on. Eventually, so did I. It was not until 2021 that one of those friends reached out to me and told me plainly that he was not okay—and had not been okay since that night. He described feeling hollow, but also feeling like he was not allowed to say that out loud. Because he survived, there was an expectation that he should be grateful, resilient, and able to move forward.
He tried to engage with memorial efforts, but instead of healing, he encountered resistance sometimes even hostility—from those who believed there was a “correct” way to mourn. That experience deepened his survivor’s guilt and left him without a safe space to process what he had been through. So he buried it. Hearing that forced me to confront a difficult reality: despite the memorials, tributes, and public acts of remembrance, there are still people most affected by that night who feel excluded from the very spaces meant to honor it.
This play exists because of that realization.
What It Is and What It's Not
What It Is and What It's Not
This play is a vehicle—for survivors to process, for their voices to be heard, and for the broader community to confront the needs of those most affected, whose pain has too often been brushed aside in favor of more structured, conventional forms of remembrance. The play centers not on what happened that night, but on what has happened in the years since: the silence, the pressure to move on, and the absence of spaces where survivors can speak honestly about their experiences.
Because of that, some elements of the script may feel controversial. That is intentional. The play is not an endorsement of any single viewpoint, but a mirror—reflecting the realities survivors have had to navigate, including perspectives that are often uncomfortable or excluded from public narratives. It does not provide answers. Instead, it asks a question of the audience: what do we do next, and how do we support those who have been left without a voice?
This is not a reenactment. It is not a retelling of the tragedy.
It is a story about survival—the kind of survival the world expects you to quietly move on from. It explores the loss of safety, the disorientation of being unable to forget while the world does, the pressure to conform to acceptable forms of grief, and the isolation that comes when your experience does not align with publicly validated narratives. It also reflects the broader reality of living in a climate that, for many, feels increasingly hostile—compounding a grief that has never fully resolved.
This work is for survivors, but it is also for the broader community. It is meant to open space for a more honest and complex conversation about grief, memory, and ownership.
Pulse holds deeply personal meaning for many, and for some, any interpretation outside of a traditional memorial framework can feel uncomfortable. But one of the core beliefs of this project is that no single group owns grief or dictates how it must be expressed. The meanings attached to Pulse are varied, and while they may not always align, they are all real and deserving of space.
While this production is not expected to make a profit, the production team will be making a charitable donation to the Rose Dynasty Foundation, supporting LGBTQ+ youth programs. Additionally, any profit the production makes, if there is one, will be donated to the Rose Dynasty Foundation as well. Other LGBTQ+ serving organizations are invited to share information and spread awarness at the event.
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