I’ve been wanting to make a blog for a while, an outlet for my blueberry pulp of a brain. I don’t write as much as I want to and I guess it’s only because I don’t feel that sense of obligation brushing between my shoulder blades the way it did in the past. I neglect my love for writing because there isn’t a set plan for it besides the arbitrary and seemingly unreachable possibility of finishing a novel and (god forbid) publishing it. Until I’m dedicated enough to a story, I’ll write here in Blueberry Pearl (I love how it sounds like the name of some swirly town).

I love writing, but I can’t write if I don’t see life. When writing descriptions, I’ve noticed a consistent trend in my work. The dress a girl wears is compared to a hibiscus blossom. The eyes of a boy is reminiscent of the cinnamon pelt of a deer. The walls of a bugambilia-choked house are a similar color to that of a blushing turnip. Words just taste better when traced back to a pearl of nature.

I’ve formed this fruit freckle of a website to share my creativity and exercise my artistic flourishes. It feels immensely vulnerable putting such things out for others to see and digest. I’m still yet to discover why we are so adamant about keeping our souls to ourselves and so sheepish when we reveal a sliver more than usual. I’m getting better at sharing parts of myself and I hope this blog will work as a sort of therapy for that self-conscious bug. Amidst the lingering nervosity, I blessedly find myself more ecstatic than dreadful about publishing my work on this blog.

Any lovergirl or loverboy is welcome here so long as you are a loverperson. Artists are greeted with embraces, nature freaks with kisses (and visa versa so nobody’s left out in case they want an embrace or kiss as well), and anybody else willing to indulge and constructively criticize the salient juvenility of my work. I am young and learning every time I put words to lined paper or blue light screens. I will admit to you, I have not taken an ounce of criticism since the third grade after presenting a painfully mediocre short story of a fox to my plain-spoken mother. Advice would be sweet, I’m unaware of the flaws beyond my peripheral vision that have been building up all these years. I wish for my writing be of the most stellar quality possible and if you can help me achieve that, I’d be most indebted.

Welcome to Blueberry Pearl, I hope you enjoy your stay. I love you and I’ll see you next week!