Why We Get So Attached To Fictional Characters, & What It Says About Us

Never in my life have I cried more over fictional characters than I have watching TV in 2025. I won’t spoil it for those of you who still need to catch up on current seasons, but suffice it to say some of the most popular series right now have killed off characters that we’ve all come to know and love over the years: 9-1-1, The Last of Us, 1923, Criminal Minds, Handmaid’s Tale… the list honestly goes on and on. You’ve been warned.

But late one night, when I literally woke up (and terrified) my sleeping husband with the sounds of my sobs as yet another fictional bestie bit the dust, I wondered… is this normal? Why do we — aka definitely me — get so invested in fictional characters, and what does it say about us?

To find out, I reached out to experts in the field of psychology, psychiatry, and even bibliotherapy. Here’s what they revealed about these parasocial relationships.

What are “parasocial relationships”?

According to Dr. Charles Sweet, a Johns Hopkins-trained board-certified psychiatrist and medical advisor for Linear Health, “Parasocial relationships describe the one-sided connections we develop with people or characters who don’t know us. While these bonds are typically associated with celebrities or influencers, they extend to fictional figures in books, shows, and movies.”

Our brains sometimes perceive real and imagined social relationships in the same way, explains Sweet. “In fact, the limbic system, which helps us process emotions, can light up in similar ways as when we’re watching a friend suffer — but it’s only a beloved character getting cut off the show.”

So, yes, caring for fictional characters can be categorized as a parasocial relationship. And, don’t worry, says Sweet: “It’s completely normal, especially with how much the media has shaped our generation.”

Why do fictional characters pull us in, though?

Logically, I know these aren’t real people. I know they aren’t actually dying. But nevertheless, I sometimes feel that same physical pang in my heart when it happens — and I’m guessing that’s true for you, too.

As a psychiatric nurse practitioner at Savant Care, Shebna N. Osanmoh often observes these profound connections between patients and the stories and characters they encounter in books, films, or TV shows. It reveals several things about our inner world, he says, like our capacity for empathy and imagination.

“It shows that we have the capacity to care about someone else’s well‑being, even if they’re made of ink or pixels. When you find yourself rooting for a character’s triumph or feeling heartbroken at their loss, you’re exercising — and likely strengthening — your empathic muscles,” Osanmoh says.

These fictional relationships also tap into our desire for meaning and connection. “Stories help us make sense of our own lives,” Osanmoh says. “Seeing a character overcome adversity can mirror our own struggles, giving us hope that 'if they can do it, so can I.’”

And fiction gives us space to feel big feelings without big consequences.

“Fiction offers a risk‑free environment to feel anger, sadness, joy, or fear. You can cry for a character’s loss without it threatening your real‑world equilibrium. You can celebrate their victories without real‑world stakes,” says Osanmoh, adding, “For example, think of the outpouring of grief when a major character dies on a long‑running TV show (e.g., Jon Snow in Game of Thrones). Millions worldwide shared shock, sorrow, even disbelief — proof that these connections are genuine emotional experiences.”

What are bibliotherapy and cinematherapy, and how do they fit in here?

Fiction… as therapy? That’s a thing? It sure is. Just ask LiterapyNYC founder Emely Rumble, a licensed clinical social worker and bibliotherapist who’s spent over 14 years studying and practicing how literature can serve as a powerful tool for emotional healing.

“When we deeply connect with a fictional character, we’re often engaging in what’s called the bibliotherapeutic process — specifically, a sequence of recognition, examination, juxtaposition, and application,” explains Rumble, who also authored Bibliotherapy in the Bronx. “First, we recognize aspects of ourselves in a character. Then we examine our emotional responses, compare and contrast our lives with theirs, and finally apply any insights gained to our own healing or growth.”

Bibliotherapy (and cinematherapy, with film and TV) involves applying these principles as part of a therapeutic practice.

“As a bibliotherapist, I intentionally ‘book match’ clients with texts designed to elicit this kind of emotional resonance. The safety of fiction allows readers to simulate social experiences and practice cognitive and emotional responses without real-world consequences — a kind of emotional dress rehearsal that can be deeply cathartic,” says Rumble.

It shows that we have the capacity to care about someone else’s well‑being, even if they’re made of ink or pixels.

This emotional connection helps people feel less alone in their struggles. It also allows us to explore our journeys and challenges “in a way that provides us with emotional clarity we might not have access to otherwise (especially in a society where access to mental health services is limited).”

Rumble cites two recent examples to illustrate what bibliotherapy looks like in practice.

“I recently worked with a teen navigating identity development and social anxiety. Together, we read sections of Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender in session. The character’s journey gave my client permission to explore their own feelings around gender identity and belonging,” says Rumble, noting that she paired the reading with a writing exercise: a letter from Felix to themselves. “This helped my client externalize the self-doubt they’d been carrying.”

For another client grieving the sudden loss of their sister, Rumble recommended The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. “We used selected passages as entry points for journaling and therapeutic dialogue in our sessions. This helped me to create a space for my client to process grief, complicated emotions, and to revisit traumatic memories without pressure or shame.”

So, parasocial relationships with fictional characters are healthy?

The experts agree: yes!

“Surprisingly, these connections can actually be quite healthy. For many, especially those who are more introspective, fictional stories can provide a safe space to explore difficult emotions like grief, fear, or vulnerability,” says Sweet.

Rumble elaborates, “These parasocial connections with fictional characters often act as stand-ins when real-life relationships feel too fraught or absent. They allow people to explore their pain through the lens of story, which can make overwhelming feelings more accessible.”

It helps, she says, that there’s no outside social judgment when someone reflects through a character or story. This makes it easier for emotions to “rise to the surface, where they can be witnessed, felt, and released.”

The only caveat: Like most things in life, parasocial relationships are best when you don’t go overboard.

“In moderation, these attachments can serve as a buffer for loneliness and even model healthier coping strategies,” says Sweet. “And our brains are only doing what they’re wired to do: seek connection, practice empathy, and make meaning through stories. The danger comes only when the parasocial world starts replacing real-world interaction entirely. Like anything else, it’s about having balance.”