It is an indigo day. ( bear my silliness)

 Nobody loves an indigo. It is easy to love a yellow or a purple- they skip down wedding aisles and fifth avenue like it was January. With all 40,567 hairs in place and a lips gloss plastered smile, they clutch desperately to the coveted appearance of control whilst utterly losing themselves to nothing in particular. Yes, the purples and the yellows go first.
  Greens and browns follow not long after, mistaking their matching uniquities for charm. Despite the meaninglessness of their organic headbands, they march off diligently in rows of two.
   There is even a place for greys and blues. In silent contemplation of far deeper things they are gently pulled along. Blacks too are never left behind, although they must sometimes sprint to catch up with the rest of the band. Down they go, row after row. Purples, yellows, browns , greens. Grey, blue, black, and all in between.
  But no one ever loved and indigo. I am the indigo, I would know.

Author: Susanna

I'm Susanna, a 20-year-old Christian girl incorrigibly addicted spontaneous adventures. My first dream was to become a pioneer. Unfortunately, I was born a couple centuries late, so I've decided to read, cook, run, and travel the world until my time machine is finished. You'll mostly likely find me getting into trouble and/or eating licorice. I am currently blogging the misadventures of a middle-school teacher in training. Come join me on my quest to become the next Ms. Frizzle! View all posts by Susanna