BLUES AND OTHER HUES

Blue has always had a way of lingering.

Not the sapphire that dances in ocean waves on a summer holiday. Not the light, airy pastel that pairs well with iced lemonade and laughter. I mean the slow, weighty blue. The kind that doesn’t announce itself with thunder, but arrives quietly — a subtle shift in the air, a heaviness in the chest.

One morning, you realize it’s been here a while. It’s in the way the world looks muted, like someone turned down the saturation. It’s in the way your favorite food tastes like nothing at all. It’s the strange quiet between your thoughts.

Some call it sadness. Some call it depression. I call it my blue season.

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The Shape of Blue

Blue isn’t always a storm. Sometimes, it’s a gentle drowning.

It’s lying in bed an hour longer than you meant to, staring at the same spot on the ceiling. It’s replying, I’m fine because explaining would take more energy than you have.

It’s scrolling endlessly, not looking for anything in particular, but also avoiding everything you should be doing.

It’s not glamorous. It’s not poetic in the romanticized way books sometimes make it seem. It’s just… heavy.

And yet, in all the months and years I’ve known this shade of blue, I’ve learned something surprising: blue never exists alone. Even at its deepest, other colors are always trying to make their way in.

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Yellow — The First Visitor

Yellow arrives quietly, and never in grand gestures.

It’s in the warmth of a mug cupped in your hands when you finally make yourself a cup of tea. It’s in the way sunlight catches the edge of your curtains, just enough to make you pause. It’s in your dog pressing its head against your knee — not asking for anything, just… being there.

Sometimes, it’s in the smallest laughter, the kind that slips out by accident. You almost startle yourself with it, because you thought you’d forgotten how.

Yellow doesn’t cure blue. But it softens it. And sometimes soft is enough to keep going.

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Green — The Slow Return

Green doesn’t arrive like spring does in movies — all blossoms and birdsong overnight.

It’s slower than that. More patient.

It’s the feeling you get after days of not wanting to move, when you finally open a window just to let the air in. It’s a short walk around the block, even if you don’t particularly enjoy it. It’s watering a plant that’s been leaning toward the light, and realizing you’ve been leaning too — maybe toward something you can’t name yet.

Green is the quiet color of healing. It doesn’t demand that you feel better immediately; it just offers small proof that you might, one day.

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Red — The Spark

Red is not always love.

Sometimes it’s anger — the good kind. The kind that wakes you up and makes you say, No. I don’t want to stay here forever.

It’s the stubborn ember in you that refuses to be put out.

It’s also passion — maybe for something small, like baking bread from scratch or rearranging your desk. Maybe for something bigger, like a project you’d left untouched for months.

Red doesn’t always last long in the blue season, but when it comes, it reminds you there’s still fire somewhere inside.

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How the Palette Changes

The thing about the blue season is that it doesn’t vanish all at once. There’s no sudden burst of color like in a time-lapse film. It changes in brushstrokes. A dab of yellow here. A soft green wash there. A streak of red that fades but leaves a trace.

One day, you notice blue is still there — but it’s lighter. Less like an ocean you’re sinking in, more like a sky you can stand beneath without fear. It’s no longer swallowing you whole.

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If You’re in Your Blue Season

If you’re here right now, I want you to know something important: the other hues are coming.

They always do.

They arrive quietly, sometimes so faint you miss them until they’ve already left their mark. But they’re making changes, even when you can’t feel them yet.

You don’t have to chase them. You don’t have to force joy or pretend you’re okay. Just make space for the small yellows, the patient greens, and the fierce reds. Over time, they will shift the canvas.

And when they do, you might just find that blue — though it will always be part of your palette — has become a softer, more beautiful shade.

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