Let me set the scene: It's 2006 and you've just logged onto the family computer to refresh Pete Wentz's LiveJournal before heading off to school. Now, this wasn’t just a PR stunt for Fall Out Boy, these entries were a raw stream of consciousness, weird and honest and written like it was meant for our eyes only. Because before algorithms decided what we consumed on the internet, we had to go looking. [gasp] I know. But it turns out there’s a whole term for what we were doing, and I’m going to talk about it.
Leave it to a therapist to make it weird.
I didn't learn what a parasocial relationship was until graduate school. But I sure as hell was in several of them during my very formative teenage years. Hell, I'd say I'm still in a parasocial relationship or two.
(Hey Oli, thanks for writing "Lost" about me.
That was seriously sweet and I felt so seen.)
Parasocial relationships are basically one-sided connections where you invest real emotional energy into someone who has no idea you exist. The target is usually a well known figure like a celebrity, athlete, musician…you get the picture. And before you roll your eyes and say that’s just called fangirling, hear me out because the clinical framing doesn't tell the whole story.
Parasocial relationships are actually normal. Humans are wired for connection, and research suggests that parasocial relationships are a natural extension of that. They can serve some genuinely healthy functions, especially for teenagers still trying to figure out who they are. These relationships often provide a space where people feel safe to explore identity, practice empathy, and feel a sense of connectedness without the vulnerability and risk of real relationships. Think about how important and appealing that would be to a lonely teenager.
And the emo scene was uniquely built for this. Peter J. Wentz wasn't just the bassist in a band your mom definitely had mixed feelings about. He was blogging his actual feelings, begging to be seen as someone other than just ‘Pete from Fall Out Boy’. He was writing lyrics that literally read like diary entries, while somehow making you feel like you were in his Top 8 even when you definitely weren't. I had him in mine though, obviously. And I refreshed that LiveJournal more times than I will ever publicly admit.
But here's the thing, looking back I know exactly what I was doing. I was reaching for connection in the safest way I knew how. I wasn't delusional about it.
I knew Pete Wentz didn't know I existed. But the version of him that showed up in those posts and those lyrics? That guy understood something about me that most people in my actual life didn't.
And that mattered more than I can explain.
Now does it get complicated? Yeah, sometimes. I’m not going to sit here in my therapist hat and pretend it doesn’t. And I’m definitely not going to sit here and tell you that Pete didn’t overshare at times (IYKYK).
Parasocial relationships can get a bit messy when it stops feeling fun and starts feeling like something you can’t turn off. This can happen when you genuinely can’t separate the person from the persona. We've all seen what that looks like and the internet, AI specifically, has absolutely made it a bit dicey. I think we can be honest about that.
But for most of us back then, it wasn't that deep. It was a teenage crush on a guy who wrote really good lyrics and wasn't afraid to be publicly sad on the internet. And watching him do that gave a lot of us permission to be sad too. To stop acting like everything is fine and be honest about what was actually going on inside.
Looking back it’s sort of funny, no one would have called it mental health support back then, but that’s kind of what it was. Pete blogging his feelings at 2 A.M. helped more people feel less alone than he probably ever knew. That’s not nothing, it’s kind of…everything.
And if that teenage version of you who needed to refresh a stranger’s LiveJournal just to feel a little less alone is still showing up sometimes, it might be worth talking to someone about it.
No pressure, no judgment. Just your elder emo therapist, checking in.