A Letter: To the Thirteen Strangers Who Felt Like Home
You have me looking forward to tomorrow.
Being a fangirl isn’t just about the person you’re cheering for — it’s about finding pieces of yourself in someone else’s art, music, or story.
It’s easy to dismiss it — the posters, the playlists, the way your heart skips a beat when their name pops up on your screen. People will call it a phase, something you’ll “grow out of.” They’ll laugh at the way you cry over someone who doesn’t know your name, belittle the hours you spend watching interviews, memorizing lyrics, or defending them like they’re your best friend.
What they don’t see is the comfort it brings. The way their voice steadies your breathing on a bad day. The way their success gives you hope for your own dreams. It’s crying at midnight over a song that understands you better than your closest friend. It’s wearing your heart on your sleeve for someone who might never know your name — and still loving them with all you have.
It’s scribbling their lyrics in your journal when you don’t know how to explain what you’re feeling.
It’s strange — how someone who’s never met me can make me feel seen. As if they don’t know me personally, yet somehow know my soul. Their words echo thoughts I’ve never dared to say aloud. Their music feels like it was written for the very ache I try to hide. Their voice steadies me when my world feels like it’s falling apart.
There are times when the people I see on screen seem to understand me more than anyone closer to me in distance.
I was just a teenager when I first found them — the people on screen who made me feel understood in ways real life didn’t. And now that I’m an adult, with heavier worries and deeper aches, they’re still the ones I run to when life is unkind.
They were strangers who felt like home.
To everyone else, they’re a celebrity. To me, they’re a safe place — a lifeline. A reminder that someone, somewhere, understands. And even if they never know my name, they’ve held my heart in ways no one else ever has.
I’ll always be thankful that I found them — at a time when everything around me was falling apart.
They became the one constant that kept me grounded. Without ever knowing it, they saved me. In the silence of my hardest nights, their voice filled the emptiness. In moments when I felt like giving up, their presence reminded me to hold on just a little longer.
Get Hopeful Misprint’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
They gave me something to look forward to, a reason to smile when I had none. Loving them made life feel a little less heavy, a little more worth living. They were never just an idol or an escape — they were a light in the dark, a quiet reminder that I wasn’t as alone as I thought. And for that, I’ll be forever grateful.
To my Sebongs,
You were my reason to stay — and I hope one day, somehow, the universe lets you feel just how deeply you were loved. Not by millions, not by crowds, but by the quiet hearts like mine who found pieces of themselves in you. You saved lives you’ll never know existed — including mine. And if nothing else, I hope you know you made this world a little softer, a little brighter, just by being in it.
You may never know my name. I may be just one in a sea of millions, but you made me feel seen when I felt invisible — and that’s something I’ll carry for the rest of my life. If I never get to meet you, I hope the universe still lets you feel the echo of every heart you’ve held — including mine.
from a heart you’ll never know, but one that found its home in your music
— vntadwrites
a Carat, always
