The First K-pop Song That Made Me Cry
The Song That Surprised Me
I was sitting at my computer one afternoon in the early spring of 2021, listening to BTS while scrolling through lyric translations on Doolset’s blog. Outside, the world was still quiet — not quite in lockdown anymore, but not back to normal either. My job had been shut down for months due to COVID-19, and even though I knew I’d be returning soon, I wasn’t looking forward to it. The burnout had settled deep.
Then the song changed.
“00:00 (Zero O’Clock)” started playing. I was half-reading, half-listening — not expecting anything more than the usual comfort their music gave me. But as I read through the lyrics, something cracked open.
I burst into tears.
It was the first time a BTS song made me cry — and the first time I realized how much their music had become a source of emotional comfort.
It wasn’t even a dramatic moment. Just this soft, quiet unraveling. A line about waiting for the clock to reset, about the promise that tomorrow might feel different — it hit something raw. Something I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.
Why “00:00 (Zero O’Clock)” Hit So Deeply
“00:00 (Zero O’Clock)” isn’t flashy. It doesn’t build to a dramatic climax or push for catharsis. It’s soft. Gentle. The kind of BTS comfort song you might overlook if you’re not paying attention — and maybe that’s why it hit so hard. It sneaks up on you, like grief often does.
As I read the lyrics, I kept coming back to the promise at the center of the song:
“And you’re gonna be happy.”
Not “you should be happy.” Not “everything will be okay.” Just: you’re gonna be happy. A quiet future-tense hope. No pressure. No timeline. Just… a little space to believe that something might feel different tomorrow.
At that moment, I didn’t feel happy at all. I felt worn out, numb, unsure of who I was without the constant motion of work. But the song didn’t ask me to fix that. It just sat with me in it. And somehow, that was enough to make me cry.
It reminded me that being overwhelmed doesn’t make you broken. That sadness doesn’t mean failure. That maybe, when the clock strikes midnight, you get to start again — even if the world looks exactly the same.
BTS, Burnout, and Being Seen
Looking back, I think that moment cracked something open because I had been holding so much in for so long — without even realizing it. The pandemic had put everything on pause, but emotionally I was still running: still pushing through the burnout, still trying to be okay, still pretending I wasn’t unraveling a little more each day.
“00:00 (Zero O’Clock)” didn’t ask me to be okay. It didn’t even assume I could be. It just offered a small promise — that the day would end, the clock would reset, and maybe, just maybe, I’d feel a little lighter tomorrow.
There’s something deeply kind in that. A song that doesn’t try to fix you, but simply sits beside you. That reminds you even hard days pass, even if nothing gets resolved.
And I think that’s something BTS does better than almost anyone.
For all the spectacle of their stages and the sheer scale of their success, they’ve never been afraid to be soft. To show vulnerability. To talk openly about burnout, anxiety, and the pressure to keep going when you’re not okay. It’s not performative — it’s woven into their lyrics, their interviews, their presence.
It’s one of those songs that shows why BTS resonates so deeply — their lyrics hold emotional meaning that feels intensely personal, especially in moments of mental exhaustion or burnout.
That day, reading those words and hearing that melody, it felt like someone had seen me without needing me to explain anything. And for the first time in a long time, I let myself feel it. Really feel it.
A Song That Still Makes Me Cry
It’s been a few years since that afternoon, but “00:00 (Zero O’Clock)” still brings a lump to my throat when I hear it. Not because I’m back in that exact place, but because I remember what it meant to feel seen in such a simple, unexpected way.
And even now, as I write this, I feel it rising again — that same tightness in my chest, that familiar sting behind my eyes. It’s strange how a moment like that stays with you. How the memory of a song can still reach in and touch something tender, even after time has passed.
That was the first time a BTS song made me cry, but it wouldn’t be the last. Their music has continued to meet me where I am — in moments of exhaustion, of hope, of starting over. And that’s something I never expected from a pop group when I first stumbled into their world.
There’s a kind of magic in being reminded that your feelings are valid. That sadness doesn’t need to be justified. That starting again — even if it’s just getting through the day — is still something worth honoring.
For me, 00:00 (Zero O’Clock) became more than just a comfort song — it was a quiet turning point in my own healing.
And maybe that’s the real gift BTS has given so many of us: the space to feel things deeply, without shame. To cry at a song. To let go for a moment. To begin again at zero o’clock.
Has a song ever made you cry at just the right time? I’d love to hear your story — feel free to share it in the comments.
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