Bluey's Page


This is Bluey's page. She's my cool gf and she's really smart and cute. I linked her rentry page in the entry portal of my site, and there's more about her there. She likes vocaloid a lot and she listens to music a lot as well. She has a good taste in clothing (in my opinion) and her favorite color is pink. She's on Tumblr and Pinterest and basically every social media that's ever existed except for insta. She's a freak but in a good way. One of her many talents is baking (my favorite things she makes are raspberry macarons and brownies), and she's good at rhythm games and stuff that requires moving her hands really fast (like typing). She plays violin and guitar which she's good at, and sings which she's also good at. She's funny and a little out of pocket because she has dirty humor. She has blonde hair that curls at the ends and blue eyes. She is on the spectrum and she is White (I don't think I need to explain).


Socials <- Back


Pinterest ------ Tumblr ------ Last.fm ------

"A University degree, four books and hundreds of articles and I still make mistakes when reading. You wrote me 'Good Morning' and I read it as 'I love you'." - Mahmoud Darwish

Movies to Watch Together

- Whispering Corridors (1998)
- Memento Mori (1999)
- Titanic (1997)

Movies We've Watched Together

- All About Lily Chou-Chou (2000)
- Love&Pop (1997)
- My Blueberry Nights (2007)

Poem I Wrote Last Night

Her breath is strawberries in summer,
cherries in spring.
She lives on the flower on a bush by the sea
And on this flower a petal blooms where she lay,
Her teeth bite an apple she picked
from a tree in a garden near Eden.
In winter her breeze is still warm,
And on the grass around her dew will cling.
And on the windswept plain she watches,
She watches the clouds float free.
she is not her lips; she is not her nose,
nor her eyes, she is not her ears, nor her hair;
she is not her hands or her legs,
her mind or her heart.
She is a feeling that feels,
an idea that idealizes;
An organism who organizes.
Her voice is the river that runs through me,
far, and yet so close, flowing with whimsy.