Yesterday, my hometown of Paris has been attacked by terrorists in several different locations. Those locations were the Stade de France, where the French football team was playing against Germany, a couple of restaurants, and the Bataclan, a concert venue where Eagles Of Death Metal were playing to over a thousand people. If I'm not mistaken, around a hundred and thirty people are reported dead and so many others are still missing, or are in hospitals, recovering from their wounds or fighting to survive.

What about me?

I'm in Brighton, England. I'm six hundred miles away from home, heartbroken and wishing I could give a hug to every single person I love. 

For me, it started exactly like the Charlie Hebdo attacks - I didn't know what was going on and didn't understand when my friend messaged me, asking if my family was safe. Why wouldn't they be, I wondered. And then I went on Twitter, read one post and found out. A hundred and forty characters letter, I was calling my brother, still on the other side of the Channel, with the need to know if every single person we knew was safe. My brother had just texted me about some silly thing, I knew he was okay. But what about his best friend, whose job consists in driving places in France? What about his work colleagues, who often have to go into Paris? I needed to know everyone was safe.

After that, I found out that the band playing in the Bataclan was a metal band - I still didn't know it was Eagles Of Death Metal. And it hit me. I know a stupidly big amount of people who run or work for music press websites in France. Some of them are my friends. Some of them used to be. Some of them are just names and faces I would see at every gig and acknowledge as part of the big alternative family, of my family. What about them? Were they at the gig? Were they safe? I logged onto Facebook and saw statuses from my friends, saying they were safe, on their way to safety and it hit me so badly.

Last night, I could have lost so many of my friends.

Two of my friends were inside the venue - one is a journalist, the other works for the promoter who organised the gig. My friends' band was playing only a couple of miles away from where the attacks took place, and in their crowd, tonight, I had friends. One of my friends is a massive football fan and was at the game. Some of my friends simply live in Paris. I could have lost all these people, all these individuals who make me smile, who inspire me, who support me, who I love oh so dearly. In the blink of an eye, they could have been dead doing the things they love. I am extremely grateful they are all alive and safe, that none of them were injured. Yet, the thought of being so close to not having them in my life anymore sent me in a state of panic - it could have been us.

It is no secret to anyone that I attend a lot of gigs. The very first one I went to was seven years ago when I got free tickets to the now extinct Furia Sound Festival, in Cergy, where I watched my favourite band at the time, a French pop rock outfit called BB Brunes. Since then, I have never looked back and given myself away to live music without a second thought, never hesitating to go the extra mile and going to the UK, to Germany, to the Netherlands to watch my favourite artists. Gigs are my happy place, my safe haven. At gigs, I have met some of my best friends in the world, I have made friends just for the night, I have talked to so many different people. I have witnessed moments that defy words and my understanding capacities. So far, my biggest love story is the one I share with live music. It's not just the thing I like the most - it's one of the most important parts of myself, of my existence.

Yes, I am extremely and eternally grateful we are all safe. But yes, the thought that it could have been us haunts me and gives me goosebumps. Yes, the fact that the terrorists attacked a concert venue hurts just as much as if they had attacked my own house. As I have said on various social networks, gigs are home and music is home. It's not just me and my friends, you know. When you're a part of this alternative scene, you belong to a family, whether you want it or not, whether you are aware of it or not. There is a 95% chance you eagerly wait for the next gig, you count the day until the magical evening, you look at your tickets every morning or every night, you can't stop thinking about it, you endlessly think about the moment when you will be reunited with your friends and the moment when your favourite band will grace the stage and play songs you adore, you consider this place safe, home, the only place you belong. 

Seeing a gig being attacked is seeing all these precious moments being attacked. No more, no less.

That's why these attacks hit so much harder - they targeted my very home. 

Finding out Nick Alexander (Eagles Of Death Metal's merch guy) had died yesterday broke me, simply because one of my friends is a merch guy himself. It could have been him.

It just hits so close to home.

I have just moved to Brighton. I am several hundred miles away from so many people I love and care about. I just wish I was in Paris right now, hugging everyone, just to be a hundred percent sure they are safe and alive, just so I could be there with them, just so we could go through this together, as the family we are.

I don't want to delve into the political questions that surround the attacks as I am in no mental state to think about such things. I just want to say, today more than any other day, that we have to spread love instead of hate, light instead of darkness, positivity instead of negativity. I, for one, will do as long as I live. 

Last week, whilst I was watching Being As An Ocean, Joel said "Be light to one another". It was for an entirely different reason, but tonight, it is extremely relevant.