BleuPrint Diaries

Tag: fiction

  • Bleuprint in the Making — Journal Entry 007

    Bleuprint in the Making — Journal Entry 007

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    Rowen Aster
    in

    Journal Entry 007: The Win That Wasn’t Measured This week, I stayed tender. I didn’t push through the migraine.I didn’t gaslight my fatigue.I didn’t pretend to be okay on Zoom when I wasn’t. That’s not slacking.That’s sovereignty. I’m done chasing external applause.My body’s “thank you” is the only win I need. 🖋 Question: Name one…

  • Bleuprint in the Making — Journal Entry 006

    Bleuprint in the Making — Journal Entry 006

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    by

    Rowen Aster
    in

    Journal Entry 006: The Boldness I Didn’t Announce I used to think being bold meant being loud.That it had to be some capital-M Moment. But today, boldness looked like saying:“That doesn’t work for me.” And then… not following it with a 3-paragraph apology. The revolution doesn’t always look like fire.Sometimes it’s just one womanreclaiming her…

  • Journal Entry 005: When a Whisper Becomes a Wall

    Journal Entry 005: When a Whisper Becomes a Wall

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    Rowen Aster
    in

    I used to think boundaries had to sound bold —“No!” with fists on hips. But lately, my no is a whisper.A breath.A slow blink before I don’t respond. And it’s still valid. Boundaries don’t need to be loud to be real. Sometimes the most powerful thing you do all weekis not explain yourself. 🖋 Question:…

  • Bleu Is the Color Of…

    Bleu Is the Color Of…

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    by

    Rowen Aster
    in

    By Rowen Aster Bleu is not just hue.It is inheritance, echo, return.It is grief stretched thin into silk.It is every woman I’ve ever been, humming softly beneath my ribs. Bleu is the color of saltwater prayers and unopened letters.To the little ten-year-old girl who had to bury her mother —and face the world alone with…

  • Bleuprint in the Making – Journal Entry 004

    Bleuprint in the Making – Journal Entry 004

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    by

    Rowen Aster
    in

    Journal Entry 004: I Am Still Worthy If I’m Not Funny Today I used to think humor made me palatable. That if I made them laugh, they wouldn’t notice how tired I was. That my softness could be toleratedas long as I packaged it in a punchline. But today, I didn’t feel like being funny.…

  • The Kitchen Where I Became

    The Kitchen Where I Became

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    by

    Rowen Aster
    in

    Last night, I visited a place I hadn’t stepped into in years,but my bones remembered the floor before my feet touched it.I was in my great-grandmother’s kitchen—not in memory, but in presence. The wood creaked like it knew my name.The stove wore the scent of collards, oil, and time.And my grandmother—long gone from this earth—stood…

  • “Dreaming with the Ancestors: A Threshold Between Worlds”

    “Dreaming with the Ancestors: A Threshold Between Worlds”

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    by

    Rowen Aster
    in

    “The Woman and the Field”A Parable in Her Voice There once was a woman with skin kissed by the sun, whose dreams wandered long before she did. One twilight night, she found herself standing not in her own bed, but in a mansion she did not remember building, owned by a pale-faced lady whose eyes…

  • I’m Not a Brand. I’m Becoming.

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    by

    Rowen Aster
    in

    There’s a lot of polished gold on the internet.People with “7-figure brands” and matching morning routines to prove it.The Pinterest-perfect desk. The soft launch. The hard hustle, hidden. But what if I told you…I’m still building. Not from scratch — from experience.But even experience has its cracks. I’ve had the title. I’ve had the corner…