A sense of normality was just beginning to return to Brussels after the “lockdown” that took place last November.

The soldiers never left, but they became just another piece of urban furniture – easily ignored. The fear and paranoia were beginning to fade. It all began to feel a bit absurd, slightly embarrassing even. What was that even about? We all got a bit carried away there didn't we? Sure there are young Flemish soldiers carrying very big guns standing next to me as I wait for a kebab, but that's the way things are now. Move along. Don't think about it.

As it turns out the extra security measures were far from unwarranted, but sadly insufficient. The long feared attacks are here.

I woke up, looked at news headlines on my phone, and was filled with dread as I saw reports of explosions at the main Brussels airport. I made coffee and paced up and down my flat as I internally debated whether to go to work at my temp job at an EU institution. The EU quarter is an obvious target. I decided to stay home. The bureaucracy would grind on fine without me.

My instincts proved right, as shorty after there are reports of explosions at Maelbeek metro station, just a block away from where I work.

I walk to work, I wouldn't have been there, but it hits far too close to home.

And then a funny sense of unreality began to sink in. With modern technology, we have all the news in the world at our finger tips: events happening a few kilometres from us feel just as near as things going on in other continents.

Brussels survivors talk

This is happening in my city, in places I frequent, but it also feels un-really distant. The usual online demagogues – hello Katie Hopkins, Allison Pearson – are already making crass pronouncements about today's events, using them for their own purposes. But right now it's all too surreal, too close, too unpleasant.

I am bombarded with calls, texts, and messages from concerned friends and family. Thankfully all my friends and colleagues are safe. Those from outside Brussels want to know what the news is. I have little to add besides what I've read. Friends are stuck in their offices, advised not to leave, but safe – that's about all I have to add. Everyone I know was lucky, and thankfully there's nothing more dramatic to tell.

I'm stuck inside my flat, with nowhere to go. It's hardly the worst situation to be in. I feel both distant and numb, and unbearably anxious.

I initially planned to treat this like a hungover Sunday, an opportunity to catch up on video-games, and TV programs, but they all feel too tastelessly violent and bleak. Instead I shuffle aimlessly from room to room while constantly checking my smartphone. Considering the level of chaos, madness, tragedy outside – it feels odd that there is nothing to do but wait.