Someone asked me yesterday how to “unlove” someone. In other words, how to fall out of love with someone who is not good for you. I provided two options which I have come to know very well:
One… Cry until you feel like throwing up for a week straight. Go to all your favorite places and just let every negative emotion out. Lose yourself in every breakup song imaginable. Make yourself a deadline for this drowning out. Tell yourself that after these days/week you will no longer shed a single tear or feel any emotion for that person you once loved.
Two… Become obsessed with yourself. Do every single healthy thing imaginable with your body and soul. Eat all the veggies and drink as much water as possible throughout your days. Workout harder than you ever have before and love yourself as much as you thought the other deserved to love you. Watch yourself transform/blossom into someone you have possibly lost along the way. Just look in the mirror and embrace an entirely different love.
So, of course there is no “right” or magical formula to “unlove” someone but I personally believe we can choose to love or unlove if need be. I could love any man who provides me with the right ingredients to my recipe of happiness. I have come to find I have much more control over this socially constructed concept of love than I had ever thought. I once thought we were all merely victims of love and cupid’s arrow, but as I have aged I realize this is simply a cop-out. You are only a victim if you decide to be and love only has as much control as you decide to let it have. So find that relentless strength within yourself and the rest will come with ease.
what is love to you? Love is that feeling of happiness you get when you find the prize in the box of cracker jacks. Love is the way your heart flutters when someone gently touches your skin. Love are those kisses that find their way to your nose. Love is the end of a bad night and the beginning of a good morning. Love is laughing at a joke that wasn’t funny. Love is counting the flaws as if they were blessings. Love is wrapping your legs around something besides a blanket. Love is watching a hummingbird flutter pass your window. Love is that onion ring you find in your french fries. Love is that puppy that nuzzles up beside you in your bed. Love is that freckle that looks like a heart. Love is the gum in the middle of your blowpop. Love is that cloud that looks close enough to touch. Love is that crescent moon you can’t help but smile at. Love is that lake the rainstorm makes in the middle of your backyard. Love is that tear that runs down your cheek when you are proud of someone. Love is that hug you didn’t expect. Love is that story you thought they forgot. Love is that detail you will always remember. Love is that perfume that reminds you of last summer. Love is that place you escaped to all those nights alone. Love is that smile a stranger returns. Love is that promise you never broke. Love is that friend you call a cousin. Love is that cousin you call a sibling. Love is that wish you make at 11: 11. Love is that thought you think before bed. Love is that wind that graces your arm on a hot day. Love is that snow angel someone made before you got there. Love is that message someone left in the sand. Love is that scent on your pillow. Love is that sigh of relief when you get somewhere a minute early. Love is the period at the end of a long essay.
So, here I am. I have given in. I studied and dreamed of print journalism my entire life but that simply no longer exists. There was something about turning the pages of a crisp and recycled newspaper that just made every page seem so much more important and exciting. However, this is 2016 and this 20-something year old must grow up and learn the technological ropes. What is this blog world even about? Is there a manual someone can spare? This is my blog about absolutely nothing, but aren’t they all? I aim to be like Seinfeld or Sex and the City but I might just end up as a site about a happily unmarried 20-something who is trying to rationalize not being where she wants to be in life quite yet. There will be rants, there will be stories and anecdotes about just simply being “in the middle” as Jimmy Eat World describes. Somehow that song has always resonated with me. At 15, at 18, and now at 20-something. So here goes nothing. Literally. Nothing.