So, I live in Paris. About two hundred meters away from the Bataclan, in fact.
I had a group of friends at my place friday.
What started as a fun gaming evening slowly turned into a night of us listening for the noise of firearms, trying to get news of everyone we knew could be in the area, people calling and news notifications piping up like crazy clockworks to add to the bodycount and the horrors.
I'm... fine. I don't know any of the victims. A friend of my friend was at the concert, and he's wounded. Nothing life-threatening, but still. My previous flatmate was close, really close to the bombs at the Stade de France, and others were having a drink right next to the places that were shot up. Most of them, along with my players, slept at my place, some spent the evening holed up in bars, iron curtains drawn to a close and waiting for cops to come and get them out. My cousin is a cop, and he ended up guarding the perimeter while the assault was taking place. He seems to be ok, but he doesn't really want to talk about it.
I'm still processing. Taking care of my gf, who's pretty shell-shocked. She was close to the second shooting in January (right next door, in fact), and close friday, and she is understandably shaken. I'm afraid. Angry. Aghast at those who are already trying to spin this in their far-right rethoric.
I've been spending the weekend taking care of friends, answering calls to confirm that I was ok. My mom was terrified : she got to sleep early on friday and missed everything, and was up sooner than I was. She knows I live in the area, and I can't believe what passed throught her mind. I'm still confused as to how I got to sleep without sending her at least at text to tell her I was allright.
I'm... ok, I guess, but shaken. As soon as I'm not taking care of someone, I start feeling a bit... empty.