by Eason Tang
Why do stars we chase on our screens feel like the closest friends we have?
Have you ever stayed up late, hitting refresh on a celebrity’s social media, heart racing when they post a new update? Or saved money to buy their album, just to feel a little closer to someone you’ve never met? I’ve been there too, once waiting hours for my favourite singer’s livestream, taking notes of their small habits like they were a close friend. To an outsider, this craze might seem irrational and unnecessary, but to a fan, it’s about working towards meeting someone we aspire to be like. This situation begs the question: Why do we form emotional connections with someone we’ve never met?
To understand this, we first need to understand the phenomenon. In 1956, researchers Donald Horton and R. Richard Wohl coined the term parasocial relationships to describe the illusion of face-to-face interactions that fans develop toward idols. These relationships spark genuine, deep emotional bonds, ones that feel surprisingly reciprocal. A superstar shares snippets of daily life and quiet thoughts with fans, and even though the connection exists only in the fan’s emotional world, it feels real and mutual.
This phenomenon, where fans treat idols like friends they see daily, isn’t delusional; rather, it’s an unspoken, layered understanding. Even when we know the boundary is firm and that it’s virtually impossible to befriend our idol, our brains process this consistent, intimate exposure as personal connections. I’ve watched my classmates stay up for their idol’s late-night livestream, just like me, and their brains don’t file it away as a staged performance. It feels like an honest, heartfelt chat with someone they look up to.
Beyond this sense of closeness, I think we grow attached to celebrities because they embody the person we want to become. Most stars shine with traits we admire: confidence, talent, and dedication… Fans often think, “They’re so amazing; I want to be like them too.” A fan may be willing to try something new after witnessing their success. This kind of motivation pushes us to grow, try new things, and chase our own small victories.
The psychology behind this lies in how our brains are wired. I’ve learned that when we’re repeatedly exposed to a celebrity’s face, voice, and personal stories, our brain marks them as part of our inner circle, our community. Our limbic system doesn’t have the filter of “this person is mediated through a screen”. Instead, it activates mirror neurons and releases oxytocin, a bonding hormone, when we make eye contact or engage in deep, emotional self-disclosure. For us students still building our identity and handling heavy academic pressure, these bonds become steady emotional support. They ease loneliness, calm anxiety, and make stressful days feel lighter.
We can also observe a drastic change in the mechanisms of star-chasing throughout generations. Gen X experienced a time when fandom was cathedrals of distance, and stars lived on pedestals, accessible only through MTV posters and magazine pull-outs. During this time, such an emotional connection, though intense, was largely one-directional and static. Then came the Millennials, who experienced the early rise of Internet forums and social media. They had the chance to experience the first tremors of a direct interaction with a star when they replied to tweets or liked posts. Both of these generations also had a prominent Yes Card culture locally, with fans buying photo cards of their idols. Yet even then, stars remained faraway planets.
For Gen Z pupils nowadays, the distance has collapsed in ways that rewrite the entire script. Fandom feels like keeping up with a daily friend. Platforms like Weverse, Bubble, and Instagram let idols send messages that sound like private texts: “How was your day?” “I am so hungry. Wish I could get out of work earlier.” They share messy bedrooms, grocery runs, and raw, unpolished moments. These carefully crafted fan-idol interaction methods aim to attract more fame and fans to the pop star by making the bond feel two-way rather than one-sided.
Previously, the asymmetry was a clear but sad fact of fandom. Now, the illusion of closeness and reciprocity makes the bond feel more genuine and two-way. With K-pop’s dominance, adolescents are easily influenced and start star-chasing. They consider themselves not mere fans, but protectors and partners in the artist’s career.
Of course, this intensity and engagement carry a double edge. A healthy and adequate parasocial tie can act as a pillar – a source of inspiration, comfort, and emotional stability during the stressful academic grind. It also provides a platform for social connection, where fans can find their people and share common interests. Nonetheless, the blurred boundaries can cross over to the dark side, where such parasocial bonds evolve into possessive obsession, with sasaeng culture as the tragic endpoint. Such a change in the culture also revealed the downside of how an idol’s natural human flaws get magnified and turn into a personal betrayal.
In the end, star-chasing experiences should not be disregarded and dismissed as mere childish foolishness. It’s a real and meaningful experience. Understanding the psychology behind parasocial relationships honours the importance of these connections to fans. For us, a celebrity is a comfort when we’re sad, a push when we want to quit, and a light during hard times. During late-night study sessions when focusing seems so hard, I’m glad I have someone I can admire and appreciate, and I take inspiration from their success. ■
Eason Tang is a student from HKFYG Lee Shau Kee College who is passionate about writing and languages. As a learner, he believes that words and stories are powerful tools to understand how people and society work, even in unexpected ways.