Look. Okay. Now that I’ve got all the cussing out of my system from the other version of this rant (not really), I want to be serious.

I get it. I get it, okay? You want to be the one for him. You want to be that girl he sees in the crowd and falls in love with at first sight like in all the fanfictions. You want to be that girl he wraps up in his arms like in all the dramas. You want to be that girl he kisses good night, that girl he can’t live without, that girl he’d give up his idol life for.

But you’re not.

You’re just … you’re not.

You’re not that girl. That glass slipper doesn’t fit you. You can try. You really can—again and again and again. You can cut off your toes like Cinderella’s stepsisters did, but it’s not going to work. It’s just not going to work. I can’t emphasize that enough.

You can try to shove your foot into that slipper, but if it didn’t work when Cinderella’s stepsisters did that, what makes you think it’ll work when you do it? If you want to get your eyes pecked out by pigeons like they did, then go for it—resort to those crazy- methods that you think will get the prince to marry you.

Wake.

Up.

You’re not his girl. You’re not his princess. You’re not his queen.

But you can always be his fan.

You can always be that girl whom he’s eternally grateful towards. You can always be that girl who buys his songs and albums, watches his shows and dramas, and supports his decisions no matter what. Because that’s the girl—that’s the girl who would forever stay in his heart, reminding of him of why and how he became so successful: because he had amazing fans like you.

You can always be that girl who spreads a wonderful, clean reputation for him—the girl that makes others think, “Wow, this fandom is so nice; is the group itself just as amazing?” You can always be the girl who helps him earn a good name, rather than tainting the one he had spent his whole life building.

Because being an idol—being an idol is his dream. Being an idol is what he’s worked nearly his whole life for. He’s sacrificed valuable friendships just to spend his time training. He’s sacrificed his education—something that could get him so much further than singing can. He’s sacrificed his youth—something he can never get back—just to spend his time training and practicing and waiting to debut. He’s sacrificed his privacy … his freedom … his rights as the human being he is.

He’s shed tears. “Why haven’t I debuted yet? Am I not good enough? Should I just quit? Why am I still doing this? Why am I wasting my life on such a foolish dream?” He’s broken arms and legs, lost precious sleep, exercised so hard to lose weight just so he’ll gain the people’s approval, given up his chance at love.

He gave up everything.

All for this.

Is it worth it?

It’s not.

It should be.

But it’s not.

Because of you. Because of all the times you’ve followed him dangerously in a taxi, risking his life, risking your life, risking other innocent people’s lives. Because of all the times you slapped him in the face. Because of all the times you took pictures of him in his sleep. Because of all the times you made him fall, all the times you made other innocent people fall. Because of all the times you tell him what he can do and what he can’t do.

Congratulations.

You’ve turned his biggest dream into his worst nightmare.

Are you happy? Are you proud? Are you? Are you proud to have disgraced his name in front of the whole world? Because, let me tell you. No matter what you do. No matter how many times you slap him in the face. No matter how many times you spray your menstrual blood on him. No matter how many cameras you hide in gifts you give him. No matter how many times you waste your money for taxis to chase him around.

He will never love you.

He will never kiss you the way you want him to kiss you. He will never hold you the way you want him to hold you. He will never love you the way you want him to love you. He will never love you, period.

Because, why would he be with a delusional girl like you when he can be with a girl like me? I don’t mean specifically me, but fans like me—fans who are normal, fans who support his relationships, fans who stay by his side no matter what scandal and misunderstanding may erupt, fans who will build a healthy, bright reptuation for him, fans who will make him look good, fans that respect him and his family.

 

Have you ever thought about this? That, one day, his dream is going to come to a grand finale? That, one day, he won’t be able to sing the way he used to when he was younger. That, one day, he won’t be able to dance the way he used to when he was younger. That, one day, the next generation is going to step up.

That’s the day his dream comes to a bittersweet end—the day he becomes nothing more than a stepping stone for the next line of idols, the day he becomes nothing more than a wonderful … wonderful memory.

When that day comes, he will be happy. He lived the dream he always wanted to live. He reached his dream, when millions of others gave up halfway.

 

Have you ever thought that, one day, you’ll find “The One”? The guy who will look past your crazy past? The guy that will love you regardless of how you had once sold your body just to earn money to stalk your favorite idol? And—when you do—you’re going to look back. You’re going to look back and you’re going to laugh. You’re going to look back and you’re going to think, “Wow, I was one crazy- .”

By then, chances are—that idol you used to worship—he would have also found the right one. The girl that makes him laugh like he’s never laughed before. The girl that makes him smile so much it became impossible for him to frown.

And guess what?

When that happens, you wouldn’t even care anymore. You wouldn’t freak and cry like you would now. You wouldn’t get angry and leave the fandom like you would now.

Because—by then—you’d be too busy loving someone who actually knows your name.