BTS’s comeback album is almost out – and you better believe I’m stepping back into the era of K-Pop obsession Aastha Agrawal

When I heard the surprising news that BTS would be releasing a comeback album, it took me back to a previous version of myself, a version that was extremely consuming in its obsession, but equally characterized by shyness.

When I was 14, I mastered the art of lowering the brightness of my screen and switching tabs to hide my shameful secret from any passer-by or seat-sharer.

While schoolchildren would gather around computer screens and shamelessly watch live cricket matches at full sound, I don’t recall groups of girls gathering openly to watch BTS or One Direction’s new music video. Those viewings took place in private — over late-night Skype calls or on the back seat of the classroom with a laptop shared between me and my best friend.

Hiding obsession is very common among teenage girls and trying to block an obvious path to ridicule. I didn’t want to be told that I was like that also Obsessed or I loved something also Deeply.

As far back as I can remember, I have toned down and reduced my obsessions with others. Even though I stayed up until 3 a.m. waiting for a new BTS music video to be released, I won’t admit it because it would make me look “crazy.”

Why was obsession a sin that only girls committed? Why is showing true emotion so quickly misconstrued as antisocial attachment or unhealthy dependence? When does interest become an obsession? What is the threshold? Why are young people not measured on the same scale?

Now that I’m a little older and no longer immersed in those fandoms, I look at that version of myself with a lot of softness. Instead of complaining (as I usually do when I think about anything from my past), I feel protective of the girl who found solace, connection, and belonging in something that others rejected or felt entitled to mock.

When I moved to Melbourne on my own when I was 17 to study at university, I didn’t know a single person. There were no familiar points of reference or easy friendships to fall into. So I dismissed myself. BTS had a whole world of content: variety shows, live performances, interviews, traditions integrated into their music videos, and entire stories you could get lost in. And I did it.

Friends still jokingly refer to that period as “Asta’s K-Pop craze era,” but I wonder how many of them stopped to wonder why I stuck with it. What changed in my life then compared to now?

The truth, in hindsight, is that getting lost in this content was healthier than letting my mental health collapse under the weight of loneliness. It kept me busy and gave me something to look forward to.

On the days when I would wake up at 5 a.m. for shifts at McDonald’s, where tradesmen would make comments about my appearance and middle-aged managers would enjoy mini energy trips, and then head straight to classes in a new city where I was underage and isolated — sometimes the only thing that kept me going was knowing I could watch a new performance later, or a new episode of Run BTS.

On days when I didn’t want to leave my bed, the careers of these random bands gave me a reason. If they can survive 17 hour training days in an industry designed to break them, then surely I will be able to take care of myself.

Ultimately, this interest helped me make real friends. Some of my closest friendships started on dating apps, where we recognized each other’s fan references in bios. The match became a message, a joke, and then years of friendship.

Fandoms and so-called “obsessions” often encourage creativity as well. These artists and idols exist within curated creative worlds, complete with aesthetics, eras, and traditions. There are whole ways to experiment: fan art, fan fiction, fan cams, mods, fan covers, fan translations, and fan made merchandise.

Fandom provides a safe space to create and try things. For me, that sparked my first experiences with writing.

While I’m grateful to be out of that period of my life, I look back on it with admiration. It holds a special place in my heart and in my development as a person. And with new album Arirang arriving on Friday, followed by a world tour next year, you better believe I’ll be back to my 17-year-old self again — staying up late to stream, updating pre-sale links, and waiting impatiently in early access lines for a VIP ticket.

• Aastha Agrawal is a writer, illustrator, and multidisciplinary creative based in Narm. Discover more of her work at Enchantedclub.net