Loving you is no coincidence
The idea of saving has been thrown around a lot throughout my life. Saving time, saving money, saving face — all of these ideas have become embedded into the nature of my being, locked tightly and intricately woven into the tapestry of my Scottish roots and Canadian raising. Saving meant something. Saving was something, whether it was a little extra change in your pocket or keeping the tears inside until you were securely behind closed doors. To save was to love and to care, though maybe not about the right things, but that notion was still ingrained within me. Like one of the many tattoos that’s found its way onto my physical form, the act of saving has become a part of me.
How ironic, then, that I found you through the same ethos: a song called Save Me. Unlike my life experiences of saving intangible ideas or metal coins, saving someone (all seven of you, as the song relays) never really crossed my mind. And maybe this is all inconsequential, and the song itself really wasn’t the main point here, but in some ways it is hyper significant. It is the point, I guess. You see, I was so busy struggling to save all those floating figments that I never really thought that I, myself, needed saving either. So how ironic it is that it was a track with the same title that did, in some way, save me. And how fitting that it was at that moment, alone in a city that felt like both family and stranger, faced with the big question of what next?, that you came into my life.
When I first found you, I was scared. Not necessarily of you, because, I mean, how would that be possible? But rather, I was scared of myself — for myself. I was scared of that undetermined path that lay ahead, wandering into this new void I had no expertise in. I was caught between letting fate take the reins, and wanting to hold onto those ropes with all the strength my little body could muster and never let go. It was almost as if I did indeed need saving. But don’t we all from time to time?
It’s funny because I knew you before. I had seen you, all seven of you, perform a few years before the fateful day on a subway platform. All of you, bright eyed and performing Danger to an audience of eager fans, somewhere closer to the end of a lineup of other performers. I hardly knew you, only mildly aware of your debut the year before, and my mind was far too wrapped up in other things to pay attention (I’m kicking myself, now, as I’m sure you know). You know what they say, though: hindsight is always 20/20, and maybe it’s my Scorpio stellium that won’t let go of the regret of just not seeing you.
But I believe everything happens for a reason. And one way or another, we were meant to find each other, at the right time. Obviously, the 2014 Sky Festival in Incheon was not it. No, maybe it was the right time that day in May, sweltering heat making it almost impossible to breathe as I waited for my train to Sogang. I had picked the wrong outfit, I remember, and I cursed myself for applying any type of make-up that wasn’t a lightweight Etude House BB cream. You weren’t on my mind then, unfortunately. I was too preoccupied with other things and other people, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that single tweet by a person I cared about deeply, promoting your new album and new music video. BTS. I knew you. Of course I did. Even long after that day under the setting September sun in 2014. I had heard Run, I Need You, and it would be a lie to say Dope wasn’t on my exercise playlist. I just hadn’t got to know you yet. But falling in love happens when it’s meant to, right?
Clicking on a link took me to the YouTube page, faced with what I am now oh so familiar with: Big Hit, music & artist for healing. As I watched on, I was struck with how talented you all were. A continuous thought fed through my brain, my ears and eyes too engaged to bare the arriving train in front of me any mind: these guys are good. Really good. How had I not known this? How had I not paid attention before? But maybe it wasn’t meant to be like that. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be I Need You, Run, Dope, or even Danger that made me fall for you. Maybe it was the inevitable idea of saving, you, me, or maybe us both, that was meant to bring us together. I like to think so. I like to think that the album that is just so me, that touches every corner of my being in so many ways, was meant to be my first initial fall for you. Like a first love, HYYH: Young Forever will always hold the most special of places in my heart. Because it was meant to be that way.
I like to think I’ve always been a dreamy person, believing in fate and destiny and soulmates (my tarot cards and fully-charged crystals can more than attest to that). Maybe that’s why I found you — maybe it was a work of the Universe. I like to believe that. I like to believe that it was a work of divine timing, that the stars aligned and the universe put us in each others’ paths. I like to think that fate played us both a generous hand in bringing you into my life, aligning us like the stars of a constellation: in sync and rightfully placed. I’d like to believe that. And I wish there was a way to ask the great unknown, to reach out through tarot or crystals or meditation and get some answers. But one thing I do know is that through finding you, understanding you, and walking alongside you, I have experienced some of the most valuable moments in my life. And for that I’m forever grateful.
Over the past 4 years of this journey together, each step has proven to me that I was meant to find you. Each new album release reaffirmed my belief in the divine timing of the universe. Each concept, title track, and message seemed to so perfectly define the moments I was experiencing in my life at that time. WINGS was my first comeback with you, and maybe that’s why it will always be my favourite era. It also marked the first time the 7 of you showcased solo songs, and each one of them seemed to speak to the exact experiences I was having on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. From beginning to love you, to understanding who I wanted to be, to struggling with mental health issues and self-confidence. Even down to forgetting the things I had loved before — all of these ideas and feelings were synchronized with the messages you relayed individually through your music. It was incredible, the way we paralleled one another.
Later, when I was worried about my future, approaching the finishing race that was my undergraduate degree, a partner away in the military, and the uncertainty of what came next for me, you released YNWA, reminding me that today is not the day to give up the fight, that missing someone is sometimes part of the process, and that inevitably, I am not walking this journey alone. Even after this, when I packed up my life and moved 8000 km to teach abroad, when I was living alone in a country that felt like home but also marked a period of inconsolable loneliness in my life, when I began to question if I had made the right choice, you brought me an album that heralded the ways of the universe, destiny, and hope. It was also then that I plunged even further into my metaphysical journey, and I can say with all honesty that it derived from the messages of Love Yourself: 承 Her.
The Love Yourself series, in its entirety, became a staple in my life. I know it’s special to each and every ARMY out there, but I cannot describe its synchronicity with my own path as anything other than fate. Her, with all its positivity and light, defined the moments of beautiful serendipity that put me where I was at that time. A good job, new prospects, happiness in being able to live and work in a country (your country, to be exact) that I love. I was reunited with my partner, and thought I was making fruitful relationships that seemed almost heaven-sent. But like all good things, sometimes they are too good to be true. As we moved from Her to Tear, so too did my life start to shift towards a darker, less joyous path, and I found myself questioning the genuity of it all. It was like you knew. You heard me. But like the album itself, there were pockets of hope. Moments where I could be my own hero, and slow down a little to realize that even in these instances of cloudiness, my existence alone was a sort of paradise. It was the consolation I needed. It gave me the courage to break free from what was no longer serving me, branch out, and put my own happiness first. I started to make amazing new friends, began going on adventures, and just as the dark veil lifted, I began to see the future clearly. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I know that in a similar way, you, too, were working through your hurdles and breaking free.
Answer truly was a turning point. The name itself was symbolic: it was an answer to the question of how to take care of myself and put my own needs first. It marked the period of my life where I grew, loved, embraced, and went towards my dreams with a revitalized passion. I remember the opening of the Love Yourself concert tour so vividly, the album having released the day before. I remember the feeling of listening to it for the first time, having waited until my friend was off work, frantically racing to the subway into Seoul to buy our own copies. I remember a sleepless night camped out for merch, and an even sleepier morning preparing for the concert itself. I remember sitting so high up but feeling like there was no better place in the world. I remember sobbing at the end, as the fireworks took off, because this was a goodbye. This was my last full day in Korea before heading home. And it was the perfect send off. Because again, you found me at a turning point: venturing back home to pursue a master’s degree. Again, the universe was at work.
2019 was arguably one of the hardest years of my life, and yet you had me mapping the confines of my soul, gazing into the night sky with unrelinquishable love. Some would deem it coincidence that it was during my darkest moments of self-discovery that you released a tightly bound package of understanding — of academic theory mixed with just the right amount of realization. It hit a sweet spot. It strung the right chords in the right key at the right moment. It was just right. Like everything you do, everything you share. It fit into my life like it was meant to be there, and when the hardest moments hit, you coloured it with the warmest shade of pink. Then blue. Then yellow. Then green. Every spectrum of the rainbow, igniting my persona, shadow, and ego. You allowed me the introspection I so craved but didn’t know I was hungry for. It was nourishing. It was freeing, and frankly, it was long overdue.
Each step of the way, you showed our connection through imagery, messages, and performance. It’s led me to believe that we very much are intertwined — you, me, and the beautiful network this fandom occupies. You brought the most important people into my life, allowing me to have the Moni to my Mini, the Yoon to my Min. Because I’ve never really had anyone to go along with me. And finding that in you was something that scared me — not in the way a jack-in-the-box or haunted house might frighten a child, but in the way it made me look at myself through a less foggy, more pristine glass.
But just like the night sky, sometimes it takes a little darkness to show the beautiful intricacies of life’s constellations. And, as much as I am a believer of fate, so I believe you are, too. Your discography and lyricism proves this point, but it also goes beyond that. It is not a mere coincidence that each release found me at the right time. It is not simply accidental happening that each album has marked a significant shift in my life, even right down to the time and date. It wasn’t simply a fluke that I was brought into the path of some of the most important people in my life through loving you. No — absolutely none of this is coincidence.
