Himutok 101: Blog Traffic Struggles

 

Still dreaming of a 1 million visits on my website. Algorithm gods, your time to shine!

To all the kind souls who stumbled upon my blog—whether you came looking for a memory from your childhood or accidentally clicked while searching for something completely unrelated—I offer you my deepest gratitude. You may be few, but your visits mean the world to me. I check my website stats with the wide-eyed optimism of a kid waiting for a text message from their crush, only to be met with the cold, lonely silence of single-digit traffic. Sometimes, I wonder if my words aren’t enough—if my writing lacks that witty sparkle, that punchline that makes you snort-laugh in public and immediately want to share the post with friends. Maybe I’m too sentimental, too wrapped up in old komiks and candy wrappers, in brownouts and bubble gums, to compete with the flash of TikTok trends or AI-generated wisdom. I find myself questioning everything—do I need to be funnier? Should I learn how to dance? Or maybe dress up as Batang 90s and do a vlog? What does it take to get a million visitors—ritual sacrifice to the algorithm gods? A funny cat wearing a Game Boy around its neck? Should I include an emotional gut-punch in every post? Or sprinkle my nostalgia with trivia, pop culture name drops, and a couple of witty, self-deprecating jabs like “Remember those lollipops that looked like lipstick? They were the only makeup that my crush complimented me on.” Maybe my problem is that I write from the heart when the world wants bite-sized banter with a side of sarcasm. Or maybe, just maybe, I haven’t found you—the people who miss the smell of old VHS tapes, the thrill of text messages that cost ₱1, and the joy of finding Pogs in a sari-sari store. So here's to reinvention, or rediscovery, or maybe just the stubborn belief that somewhere out there, a million hearts beat in rhythm with the memories I’m trying to write down. And until they all find me, I’ll keep writing—for the quiet readers, the one or two who linger, and for myself. 

In a time when vlogging dominates every feed and screen, I often feel like a lone whisper in a world that only listens to shouts. Everyone seems to crave motion, faces, noise, and filters—quick images over quiet thoughts. Vloggers talk fast about what they see: what they eat, where they go, who they're with—curated clips from a day that often looks like everyone else’s. And yet, here I am—still blogging. Still choosing the written word over the viral reel. Still bleeding my soul onto the page instead of pressing record. Because writing feels more human to me. It's not just a flash of emotion or a burst of energy; it's a slow, deliberate pouring of self. Every sentence I type is stitched with memory, with pain, with wonder. Maybe that's why hardly anyone visits my blog anymore. Maybe reading has become too heavy, too silent, too slow for a world addicted to speed. But even if I’m writing into the void, I choose to keep writing. Not because it’s trending. Not because it gets clicks. But because this—this-this art of forming thoughts and shaping them into stories—is how I make sense of being alive. Vlogging may show you what the eyes can see, but blogging reveals what the heart dares to say.