As I pen down these thoughts, my heart is filled with a bittersweet mix of emotions. I was 18-year-old when EXO first graced the stage, and little did I know the profound impact they would have on my life.

Life's twists and turns led me down the path of education, and my twenties slipped away, leaving me with a regretful ache. I missed out on the exhilaration of experiencing EXO's concerts and comebacks in real-time—a piece of my heart reserved for them but seemingly unreachable.

At times, I yearn for the strength to confront the judgmental glances and criticism I faced for my love for EXO. Sadly, I often allowed myself to be swayed by those judgments.

Now, at 29, a deep longing to connect with fellow EXO-Ls and share in the collective joy fills my soul. It's a silent struggle, standing on the sidelines, yearning to be a part of the shared narratives that make our fandom so special.

Just recently, a wave of nostalgia crashed over me, and it felt like I was watching the echoes of missed moments fade away. The desire to experience the magic of a concert, to be enveloped in the present with EXO, is an ache that words struggle to convey.

I dream of the day where I can afford to be present at a concert, not judged by circumstance, but welcomed into the arms of the fandom. It's not about adequacy; it's about the shared heartbeat of being an EXO-L.

Here's to the hope that one day, our stories will intertwine, and we'll celebrate our love for EXO together. Until then, I stand with my heart at the shore, waiting for that moment when the tide carries me back to the warmth of our EXO-L family.

Where are all my older EXO-L. Feeling kinda old.