How BTS Inspired Me to Keep Breathing

There was a time in my life when the air around me felt too heavy to breathe. Every day was a struggle, every night a quiet war inside my mind. I was trapped in a loop of overthinking, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop the storm of thoughts spinning endlessly in my head. The silence of my room felt louder than a crowd, and I often cried without even knowing why. I felt invisible — not just to others, but to myself. It was during one of those long, empty nights that something changed.

One evening, while scrolling aimlessly through YouTube, I came across a soft piano version of Epiphany by BTS’s Jin. I had never heard his voice before, but the way he sang felt like he was whispering directly to my soul. I didn’t understand the Korean lyrics at first, but I searched for the translation. The line, “I’m the one I should love in this world,” hit me so deeply that it brought tears to my eyes — not from pain this time, but from something that felt like hope.

That moment opened a new door for me. I started listening to Magic Shop, Answer: Love Myself, Spring Day, and Zero O’Clock. These weren’t just songs — they were lifelines. Their music became a form of therapy, a voice reminding me that I wasn't alone in what I was feeling. Their words didn’t offer fake positivity, but rather acknowledged the pain and encouraged healing. They sang about anxiety, self-doubt, loneliness, and the slow, powerful journey of learning to love oneself.

I wasn’t a K-pop fan before, but BTS felt different. They weren’t trying to be perfect idols — they were real, raw, and honest. I began reading about the members: RM’s deep thoughts and leadership, Suga’s openness about depression, J-Hope’s bright and contagious energy, Jin’s comforting warmth, Jimin’s soft strength, V’s artistic soul, and Jungkook’s quiet resilience. Each of them had faced darkness in their lives, yet here they were, singing and dancing with light in their hearts.

There were days I could barely leave my bed. Everything felt heavy. On those days, I played Tomorrow on repeat. The lyric, “Because the dawn right before the sun rises is the darkest,” became my silent prayer. I wrote those words on sticky notes and placed them on my mirror, my notebook, even near my bed. They reminded me to wait, to breathe, to hope.

I started journaling again, something I hadn’t done in years. I made a small cozy corner in my room, where I kept candles, soft pillows, lyrics from BTS songs, and printed photos of calm nature scenes. It became my healing space. I also joined online ARMY communities where people shared their own healing stories. Reading them, I realized I wasn’t the only one who felt broken — and I wasn’t the only one healing.

Topics like self-love, mental health, music therapy, and fandom support became a part of my everyday life. BTS wasn’t just music anymore — it was a lifestyle, a path toward inner peace. I even started creating small art pieces and poems inspired by their lyrics. For the first time in forever, I felt a sense of purpose.

When RM said, “Speak yourself,” during a speech at the UN, I listened. I started speaking kindly to myself, forgiving myself, and slowly letting go of my past. I stopped hiding my pain and started embracing my journey. BTS had unknowingly taught me to be brave with my own story.

I still have bad days. There are still moments when I feel like I’m falling. But now, I have something to hold onto. BTS gave me more than just music — they gave me hope, strength, and a reason to keep breathing. Not just to survive, but to truly live. And for that, I’ll always be thankful.