I have never understood a fan’s “obsession” with his/her idol – until a few years ago when I “fell” head over heels “in love” with the character of Kim Hyun Joong in Boys Over Flowers. Amazingly, I found myself cheering for the actor’s boy band SS501 and sitting through Playful Kiss even though I kept nodding off some parts (such as when KHJ wasn’t in the scene).

And now that I found out he is (or was?) in Manila, I’m astonishingly jealous of those fans who had enough courage to brave through the thick constricting goo of excitement and utter adoration (aka sweat, getting one’s feet stepped on by different types of shoes and sandals, being nudged on the stomach – or even on the breasts! – by someone’s elbow, nudging back to inch a bit closer, finally tipping over because the person behind was also pushing… you get the picture, right?) just to glimpse at and drool over KHJ in Trinoma and Glorietta 3 and the airport, I guess.

Can I consider myself a fan? Though I wanted to buy the SS501 mini-album last 2009, I didn’t. I haven’t bought the Breakdown album too. BUT! I do dream about KHJ and my heart beats crazy looking at his photos. Wikipedia, however, defines a fan thus:

A fan, sometimes also called aficionado or supporter, is a person with a liking and enthusiasm for something, such as a band or a sports team. Fans of a particular thing or person constitute its fanbase or fandom. They may show their enthusiasm by being a member of a fan club, holding fan conventions, creating fanzines, writing fan mail, or by promoting the object of their interest and attention.

I tried being active in that site I registered in, but I couldn’t bring myself to divulge my true identity nor meet up with them. I’m not sure if that was because I cringed at the thought of realizing that part of my existence as a “fan.” In the simplest of terms, I do not want to be a fan. I just can’t bring myself to let everything stand still while I watch, from a distance, a few minutes of someone actually living in the truest sense – someone who has not given the world any life-saving theorem, at that. While I could be doing even just a small thing to ease the life of another person, I’d be standing and screeching in sync, as if on cue, with similarly situated individuals – just to satisfy my own cravings. Silly, trivial… and a tad bit selfish. Isn’t it?

And yet, wouldn’t it be cruel to deny myself that small pleasure? It would have been just one day out of thousands of days in my quest to make a change in the world. Just one.

I still couldn’t, though. So I’m stuck in front of my computer screen, dreaming that I could have seen him and maybe, just maybe, he could have seen me – and he could have read my thoughts telepathically. Yes, I have gone so far as to endow him with superpowers. But just look at his eyes! When he looks straight at the camera, it seems as if he’s staring at the audience ourselves. As if seeing our bare souls. (And here starts another of my daydreams… *sigh*)