How Do I Unlove You?

How do I unlove you?

That’s a question I’ve asked myself many times. You were the one that got away and yet I still love you. I try my best not to say it out loud but keeping something like that bottled up inside can only go on for so long.

How do I unlove you?

It’s a question many people have asked themselves. The problem with love is that you can’t control it. The mind battles what the heart feels. Your mind can take over and you can convince yourself over and over again but there will always be that part of you, that voice telling you to do the opposite. Some people are lucky enough to be able to tune it out.

How do I unlove you?

In theory it should be easy. But it’s hard since I still see and talk to you every now and then. I tried avoiding you. I thought not seeing you would make me forget you but instead, it made me miss you. Seeing you with the dorky smile that complements your boyish charm makes my heart melt. But then I have to restrain myself. I have to grin and bare it while asking myself the same question again.

How do I unlove you?

My will is strong but my heart tries to pound loud enough to be heard. To be considered. To be vulnerable. In that moment of vulnerability, I think of you and what we could have been. But I’m not stupid enough to think that we would ever be together. What we had, fleeting as it was, was special and something I fondly look back on. I love you, that much is true, but it does not mean that I want to be with you. Just because I miss you does not mean that I want you back in my life. It’s just a part, a phase I have to go through to move on. Which is why I still keep asking myself, “how do I unlove you?”


Adam's Note: I wrote this a few years ago for Matt when I was still in love with him. My feelings for him are long gone. I just thought it would be fun to post this for the benefit of those asking themselves how to unlove someone.

Why I (Kinda) Stopped Blogging

I remember a time when I would have 2 -3 posts a day. I remember when I had people reaching out to me to review their shit or ask for advice. Those days are long gone. Even my readers are gone, my blog and my musings are now a thing of the past for them and I'm not sure if they even remember reading the stuff I wrote.

I have myself to blame, really. I started posting everything online, my life became an open book to everyone who took the time to read it. Eventually, I wanted to be more private about my life and my relationships. The posts lessened from once a day to once a week until it back one post per month and eventually it dwindled to a couple of posts per year.

My fellow bloggers have also left the blogosphere, some of who I'm still connected with through social media. These bloggers who kept their anonymity now post photos of themselves out in the open because their blogs have ceased to exist. Their stories gone and with that their need to hide. The blogoshpere wasn't what is was when I, when we, were at our peak. Sure, there are those who managed to keep going but their posts have also declined. I won't be surprised if in a few years their own blogs would be gone.

But a part of me still yearns for it, a part of me misses the online world which is why I created my youtube channel. But it's not as easy as blogging. It entails more work on my part.

I stopped blogging because I lost my muse. I lost that spark in me that made me want to write and share everything about me. Many times I've tried to write. Many times I've tried to post and God know I have dozens of unfinished drafts in this blog. I do miss blogging, but I can't commit myself to do it the way I used to.

Maybe one day, someday, I'll be able to do it all over again...

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-Adam

Where The Voices Dwell

It's been a long time since I posted something here that isn't a video. It feels like a lifetime, to be honest.

The past few months have not been easy. There are so many things I've had to go through and I decided not to make any of them public. There was a time when I would write everything here. Every single thought, every single achievement... even my failures. But alas, those days are far behind me. Blogging my daily musings is behind me.

There are days when I don't even have the energy to get out of bed but I force myself to because a part of my believes that life isn't so bad and there are things worth getting out of bed for. I've become accustomed to fending for myself because I know that out there, in the real world, I have no one to count on but myself. I don't want to be a burden to the people around me so I try my best to do things on my own. I often keep everyone at arm's length because I've learned that letting people close enough would only spell heartbreak and sorrow for me. It's not something I do on purpose, it's a reflex of mine.

It's not healthiest way to deal with things, but it's the only way I know.

There are days when the voices in my head are so loud that I doubt myself and question my existence in this world. There are days when the world seems nothing but a blur and I just walk through life's highways with no idea where I'm supposed to go.

A part of me knows that it isn't so bad and there are those who have it worse than I do but sometimes, I can't help but feel like maybe I've had enough. Maybe I've been through so much that at this point that I deserve a break.

There are those around me who make life a little easier. They make me see the brighter side of things and help me get a good grip of reality when I feel myself losing touch of what's real and what's not. They're the ones who help me get out of bed every morning. They help drown out the voices that try so hard to consume my being. Half of me believes that they're the cure and can help fill the void that could swallow me whole any second. The other tells me that it's a band-aid at best.

It's a constant struggle trying to figure out what's real and what's not. Every morning, a question burns inside my head.

"Will things get better or is this the best it'll ever get?"

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Behind These Walls

It feels like it's been forever since I wrote something here. I post copies of my Youtube videos, yes, but to actually sit down and write something... it feels like a lifetime ago. Because of that, I figured, why not share a story? So here's a conversation between two people.

"Where do I begin?" he asked.

"I don't know. I can't imagine what it must be like to be in your situation," she answered.

He could see the pity in her eyes mixed with uncertainty. She looked at him the way he felt. Powerless.

"I've spent my whole life running away from these people who hurt me. I gone so far that I don't know my way back. How do you start finding the road to recovery? The road to healing? I know it begins with me but I've put up this wall to keep them away and my fear is that if I let them in, they'll just end up hurting me again. I am 50 shades of fucked up because of them."

"You can do it again, Build those walls back up if that happens," she responded.

"If only it were that easy. I've been broken so many times that I wonder how I manage to get out of bed every morning," he answered. He could feel himself welling up with tears. "Do I want to forgive them? Maybe. Am I ready to forgive them? Maybe not. Not yet. How do I forgive them when they're the reason I'm like this. I am fine where I am now, not knowing what's behind the wall."

She looked at him unsure of what to say next.

He took a deep breath.

"I love my mom, you know that. Even though she drives me up against a wall sometimes, I do love her. But sometimes I wonder, does she think of what I feel? Does she know what I have to go through everyday? The struggle I face?" he said.

"At least she accepts you for who you are," she said without a missing a beat.

"That's true and if that is the closest thing to love I'll ever get to experience, I'm fine with it. Beggars can't be choosers right?" he answered.

He hesitated for a moment trying to think of the words eh would say next. He had the thought in his head but could not find the words to express it.

"All I want is for her to realize that there is something inherently wrong with me, that I am not acting out or lashing out, that there is something wrong with me. I want her to realize that without me telling her. I want to tell her what I feel, what I've been feeling all these years. But I am certain that that's a conversation she's not ready to have. Not with me, anyway."

"Maybe someday she will," she said.

"Maybe. But for now, I'll keep the walls where they are. Let them think what they want of me but those walls are there because of them. Those walls are up so I can slowly put back the pieces of me that they broke many years ago."