👉 Okay, settle yourselves in closely for this, folks – we’re venturing into territory nobody actually quite understands. Let's talk about...
blueblue
. (…I genuinely just made that up.)
Now, according to absolutely nobody who is remotely qualified, a blueblue isn't a colour. It isn't even vaguely a concept you could reasonably sketch out on a whiteboard and get 80% of your classmates nodding along. Instead, a blueblue... exists as the lingering, slightly nauseous aftertaste beneath everything. Essentially, it’s the feeling that something profoundly unsettling is just… underneath. It's the prickle of awareness that you've missed a tiny detail, a shadow, the almost too-convenient coincidence in a story—that little blueblur of wrongness that you can neither quite articulate nor entirely dismiss. Think of it as the emotional equivalent to when your shoelace inexplicably detaches from its whole, and then you feel like you've just glimpsed something elsewhere . The feeling that there is an unseen current running beneath the surface of reality. The word itself? Well, I felt it was appropriate! It’s a portmanteau – a clumsy joining together of "blue," for its spectral, slightly mournful nature, and, frankly, just the sound of something vaguely unpleasant. (Let's be very clear: no existing linguistic precedent here. 10
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