The Unplanned BTS Obsession: The Moment BTS Took Over My Life

BTS ARMY.
Two words. Seven men. Millions of fans. One global empire that could probably overthrow a small government.

Few years ago? I never thought I’d be one of them. I was a non-believer, an outsider, blissfully unaware of the rabbit hole waiting for me.

But now?
Now, I have no money, no sleep schedule, and a brain permanently rewired by seven men who don’t even know I exist.

So, where do I even begin this story?

Tiny Desk and “It Was Supposed To Be Just Names!”

Well, 2021 happened. COVID hit, the world shut down, and suddenly, our entire existence was reduced to Wi-Fi signals and glitchy Zoom calls. Socializing became a digital simulation, and reality felt like a fading dream.

And with 80% of our lives now spent online, we all fell down some kind of rabbit hole.

For me? It was music.
I’ve always been a music enthusiast—scratch that, a full-blown addict. I don’t play, but I consume everything—classical, jazz (funk, fusion, smooth), J-rock, traditional, new age, you name it. Except for K-pop.

Of course, I knew Gangnam Style (that song was practically a global phenomenon). I’d heard of BTS, EXO, BLACKPINK, BIGBANG, and Super Junior—I knew their names, but not their music.
Because, well… music snob me thought K-pop was too poppy, too focused on visuals and choreography—not the kind of music I’d actually listen to.

And then, that fateful Tiny Desk Concert happened.

I’ve always considered Tiny Desk Concerts the gold standard for live music.
I mean, have you seen Coldplay’s stripped-down version of Viva La Vida?
Sting and Shaggy vibing like reggae royalty?
Snarky Puppy casually flexing 4:3 polyrhythms like it’s a TED Talk?

For me, Tiny Desk Concerts are where real musicians shine.

So when I saw BTS on Tiny Desk?
Excuse me?

I had heard Dynamite before—actually, one of my favorite indie funk bands, Scary Pockets, did a cover of it, and it was fire. But I figured I only liked it because of their funky spin on it.

But on Tiny Desk?
I listened—like, really listened.

They performed Dynamite, Save Me, and Spring Day.

• Save Me had a groove I didn’t expect. I liked it.
• Spring Day was… beautiful. (I had no idea that in a few months, this song would absolutely wreck me emotionally.)
• But the biggest thing that caught my attention?

The seven of them. Their chemistry. Their stage presence.

In a live, intimate setting—no flashy stages, no elaborate performances—just them and the music.
And somehow, they were still electrifying. Playful. Organic. Effortless.

I liked them. And I didn’t even know their names yet.

Who Are Their Names? And the Rabbit Hole That Followed…

This is an ongoing inside joke among ARMY:
We all start at the same place—when we innocently ask, “Wait… who’s that guy?”

It always starts so simple. So harmless.

You notice someone.

• Who’s that mischievous angel?
• Who’s that guy who looks cool and completely unbothered?
• Who’s the one who keeps smiling like literal sunshine?
• Who’s the one who’s so composed and radiates leader energy?

And that’s when older ARMY will smirk knowingly and say:
“Oh. YOU ARE IN FOR THE RIDE.”

That’s exactly what happened to me.

At first, it was just an innocent attempt to tell them apart.
I just wanted to know—

It was supposed to be just names.
It was never just names. 

Seven distinct personalities, 300+ songs, endless inside jokes, wild conspiracy theories, and a devoted fandom that felt like family… and before I knew it—I was lost. 

Sunshine in the Middle Seat (and Other Ways BTS Broke Me)

After the Tiny Desk, it was game over.

YouTube algorithm caught me rewatching that performance an unhealthy number of times and went, “Ah. We got a live one.”

Suddenly, my entire homepage was BTS.

Fan edits. Funny compilations. Reaction videos. Lyric breakdowns.

And then came the turning point—the one that really kicked my descent into overdrive:

Carpool Karaoke.

Yes. That one. With James Corden.

I know, I know—some ARMY still have beef with him in the future for that whole “13-year-old girls” comment (which, like… why even go there, James? We’re emotionally (un?)stable adults with flair, thank you very much).

But that episode?

Chaos. Gold. Emotional whiplash. Peak comedy. I cried.

Jin and Yoongi were being  savage in the back, roasting Namjoon’s Friends-based English skills and saying they don’t know what was being discussed but “let’s just laugh” anyway.

Jimin and Taehyung shared that infamous mandu incident—retelling a fight over dumplings..

And the nickname?

Park Jimin, as Mochi. I lost it.

Namjoon gave textbook dad energy, trying to keep the group from combusting while still vibing to Bruno Mars.

Jungkook hitting that high note in “ON” like he wasn’t even trying. Just casually redefining vocal excellence in a moving vehicle.

And Hob as sunshine incarnate.

Just sitting in the middle, hyping everyone up, looking like joy had a physical form and chose dance as its primary language.

I didn’t know it then, but this was the moment.

The shift.

The soft click in my brain when BTS went from “that K-pop group” to “emotional support boyband with mind-blowing talent, chaotic energy, and devastating sincerity.”

It was no longer a curiosity.

It was commitment.

I was becoming a baby ARMY.