Month: November 2019

noun blush plural noun blushes

1. a reddening of the face as a sign of embarrassment or shame.
   • another term for blusher (sense 1).
2. a pink or pale red tinge.
3. a wine with a slight pink tint made in the manner of white wine but from red grape varieties.

It was blush at first sight. Me, my products— him, his marvels. Spent evenings under the pale night sky; all was crisp, bittersweet, & hopelessly intangible. I never saw days like those. I never spent nights like that. Underneath the crystal-clear skies, we melted into ambiguous forms. We found ourselves feeling things we didn’t think we could again. Immersed somehow so very distant, he sings to me.

I didn’t want to turn this into a place for my writing but where else is a girl to go?

Catastrophes come to a close. For end matters, whatever works. Chase Bank ATM receipts by email, updates not installed. Because you’re just too. damn. distracted.

I don’t like to admit when my head is spinning. I don’t like to seem out of control. I don’t like to seem like I’m perfectly attached together. I don’t like to seem domineering and inherently a threat to the success of others. So this shallow space I’ll occupy, for the week, for the month– until it is time to give in. When is it ever the right time to give in? Shallow spaces.

I’m trying to decide what direction to take this writing space in– lifestyle blog, or personal blog. I will be doing a compare and contrast post regarding the two in my next post. I’m fueled with ideas, some may be knocked off, others more prized and intentional. I like the general voice I’m conveying my points and strings through, though. Isn’t that something, for me, to value and inherently find pride in? Not pride, something less all-eyes-on-me, more of a content nature.

I want to take an in-depth english class. and I am— soon! It’ll be online and while I’m in Russia, but it’ll hopefully cover literature I find relevance in my being towards. You feel like you can do that th anything, and when it comes to it there’s a disconnect, however minor, however pure. I don’t think I am great— I write in my own way, what if it’s all wrong? To read others’ works is to expand the mind.

The delightful treasures of life. Count them, take them in. Laugh at it all.

xo, Elle