BTS was never just a Korean boy band to me, they were the seven men who had shaped and molded my life and the person I had become for the preceding 6 years, and the memory of that day a little over two years ago when they were involved in a horrific car accident here in Paris, still haunts me. It's a day I try not to think about too often, lest the fear, grief, and sheer terror take me over again as they did that day and for several months after.
I didn't think that being here in Paris where the accident occurred would affect me as much as it has. I thought that I had finally come to a place where the nightmares were at bay, I had shed all of my tears, and I could finally think about my 7 loves once more without feeling like my heart was splitting in two. But clearly, I was wrong.
07/25/2021
I've been in Paris for nearly a month and the nightmares have returned.
After the boys' accident and Jungkook's disappearance, I had nightmares so terrible that I was terrified to even close my eyes. Visions of torn up, crumpled cars, of beautiful tattooed hands reaching out to me for help haunted me constantly. When I had stayed up as long as I possibly could and my body finally succumbed to sheer exhaustion my dreams were haunted by the most beautiful angelic voice only to be torn apart by screams of fear and pain coming from the mouths that had previously only brought me comfort and joy. It took months of tears, confusion from family members and friends, and finally therapy before I was finally able to go days and eventually weeks without being haunted by that beautiful voice in my dreams.
The members of BTS were all in an SVU traveling down the Cours-La-Reine when a drunk driver slammed into their vehicle t-boning it and instantly crushing one half of the vehicle. The other car had been traveling so fast and the impact was so great that the SUV flipped several times and caught fire before tumbling into The Seine. Miraculously, 7 of the passengers of the SUV made it out of the water with nothing more than concussions, some 2nd-degree burns, and several broken bones between them. But one, the youngest, the brightest star in my world, didn't come back out of that water.
Jeon Jungkook's body was never found. It's been two years and he hasn't been seen or heard from again. His bandmates, his brothers lost in their grief and unable to carry on without him disbanded and disappeared from the spotlight. I like to believe that they are still close, still, keep in touch, and helped each other heal as best they could. The tabloids around the world said that he was either killed in the accident itself or drowned once the SUV went into the river. We'll probably never know.
Many ARMYS around the world still hold out hope that our Maknae is out there somewhere; healing or suffering from memory loss. After all not knowing who he is but alive is much better than the alternative. I can't allow myself to dwell on that thought too often or else the hope and
sheer agony that bloom within me threaten to smother me completely.
I believe that in sending me to Paris my parents believed that I would find closure and healing. They knew how much BTS meant to me and how prominent a place they had had in my life for 6 years but they never could quite wrap their heads around the amount of grief and desolation I felt for 7 men that I had never actually met. That's something that I had to work to come to terms with. Not everyone would understand these feelings, not everyone felt as if the world had been thrown off its axis and like our universe had lost its seven brightest stars. It took me so long to understand how anyone could go on living as if nothing had happened. The information about the accident was spread around the news and people within the entertainment and music industry were sad and understood what talent had been lost. But no one outside of our ARMY family would ever truly understand what had been taken from us and how our lives had irrevocably been changed.
