Kataomoi
I would argue that one of the hardest things about being a fangirl is that sometimes it’s impossible to delineate fact from fiction. And by fiction, I mean fanfics. The types written too well, too close to reality that at times you wonder whether the author responsible for spewing forth such stories is actually a family member of one of your idols, a distant relative frustrated or enamored at the success of someone whose best and worst habits they’re aware of.
I get that feeling a lot, especially when it comes to Sakurai Sho. When fellow fangirls and I talk about him - and I try to glean as much gossip as I can given I’m new to this Arashi-worshipping business - my friends end up saying things too absurdly farfetched it’s hard to imagine they’re just figments of a fangirl’s imagination. For example, the rumor that Sakurai supposedly disliked playing the piano as a young boy because his father pushed him too much in order for him to excel at it. Or the rumor that Sakurai is very protective of his younger brother because he doesn’t want Shu to suffer the same childhood he did - supposedly a very pressured, very unhappy one. And recently, I even heard talk of him supposedly having studied Economics in the UK had he not debuted in Arashi. About him supposedly, allegedly, being the heir of his mother’s family’s publishing business, and about Shu being the last option for heir because the two older siblings have chosen unorthodox - for the Japanese elite - careers.
One hears too much one cannot separate imaginings from the truth.
In any case, we will never know the real deal - us fangirls, that is. We will only ever see the side our idols wish to show to us, the side our idols wish us to see and believe. We can’t even trust tabloid rumors, we can’t trust their supposed showbiz friends. In the end, aren’t we all just living in a dream? A happy dream, yes, but the hope of one day fully or even partly getting to know the people we admire is just a futile fantasy. It’s just a futile fantasy, and that’s part of what makes fangirling so freakin’ sad.
Because after all the flailing and the hormonal surges and the splurge purchases there will always be moments, pauses, wherein one will stop and wonder what it’s all for, this loving. Because they will never know. And even if they should, someday, discover the secret virtual altars we’ve put up in tribute to their human perfection, they will never understand. Tell them they have saved your life and they will only smile.
I’m not quite sure I want to see such a smile.
I get that feeling a lot, especially when it comes to Sakurai Sho. When fellow fangirls and I talk about him - and I try to glean as much gossip as I can given I’m new to this Arashi-worshipping business - my friends end up saying things too absurdly farfetched it’s hard to imagine they’re just figments of a fangirl’s imagination. For example, the rumor that Sakurai supposedly disliked playing the piano as a young boy because his father pushed him too much in order for him to excel at it. Or the rumor that Sakurai is very protective of his younger brother because he doesn’t want Shu to suffer the same childhood he did - supposedly a very pressured, very unhappy one. And recently, I even heard talk of him supposedly having studied Economics in the UK had he not debuted in Arashi. About him supposedly, allegedly, being the heir of his mother’s family’s publishing business, and about Shu being the last option for heir because the two older siblings have chosen unorthodox - for the Japanese elite - careers.
One hears too much one cannot separate imaginings from the truth.
In any case, we will never know the real deal - us fangirls, that is. We will only ever see the side our idols wish to show to us, the side our idols wish us to see and believe. We can’t even trust tabloid rumors, we can’t trust their supposed showbiz friends. In the end, aren’t we all just living in a dream? A happy dream, yes, but the hope of one day fully or even partly getting to know the people we admire is just a futile fantasy. It’s just a futile fantasy, and that’s part of what makes fangirling so freakin’ sad.
Because after all the flailing and the hormonal surges and the splurge purchases there will always be moments, pauses, wherein one will stop and wonder what it’s all for, this loving. Because they will never know. And even if they should, someday, discover the secret virtual altars we’ve put up in tribute to their human perfection, they will never understand. Tell them they have saved your life and they will only smile.
I’m not quite sure I want to see such a smile.