*Warning - self harm*

People would always ask me what my favorite color was, and every time I give them the same answer. "Red, blue, and purple. Like a bruise"
That was always my answer, "like a bruise"
I never gave them my real answer, I never told them why I love those colors so much. So let me tell you.

I've always loved purple. It's my grandmother's favorite color, people used to say that I got it from her. Purple is the color I see when I close my eyes too tight. It's the color of my childhood. Sometimes I close my eyes and I'm back in my childhood bedroom, where everything made sense and no one could hurt me. With that closet full of the various shades. Lilac was the color of my walls, I remember the way the light from my lamp used to hit it on summer nights. I remember it being the first big decision that I got to make for myself, it was the first true bit of individuality that I ever had. Before the walls, it was the curtains. My dad brought home these dark purple curtains, with the oddest fuzz on the top. I loved them more than anything. The winter sunlight used to peek around them and into my eyes on days when I slept in. My first hamster used to chew on the edge and leave it covered in spit. I remember wrapping them around the post of my bed because I lost the curtain ties. When we moved, I lost the walls and the curtains. I even gave some of the clothes away. That's truly when I started losing parts of myself, only to be left with what I now have. I've always loved purple.

My mother's favorite color is blue, she's always loved it. It was the color of her bedroom walls before we moved. Blue was the color of her favorite dress, one of the few that she ever wore. Blue always meant pool water and summer. Navy blue was the color of my school uniform. Blue is the color of my high school. I've always worn that shade of blue with pride. I'm always willing to represent the royal blue and white. Blue has always been familiar, it's always been comforting and safe. Blue is the color of my favorite blanket, that I wrap tightly around myself when I feel the world crashing down. Powder blue is the color of my softest sheets. It's the color of the pillow that I bury my tears in. Blue is the color of my walls, but only when I turn off the light in the late afternoon. Blue is safe and loving, blue will never leave me. Maybe that's why I love it.

Red is never seen as a good color, anger, heat, discomfort. But for me red has always been grounding. Red is the color I saw when I sunbathed in the driveway, it was my best friend's favorite color growing up, red was the color of our second Wii remote when I was ten. Red's the color of the sneakers I wear when I'm too tired to function, it's the color of my favorite candy when I need something to keep my mind in class. Lately, a new shade of red has been my favorite. Long lines of deep red drawn on blank canvas, both giving and taking away warmth from my body, all lined up like soldiers in a row. Some days they're the only things I have. I've always been a painter, but no painted red line has ever brought me comfort like these do.
But it's pretty hard to explain that to everyone who asks. So I'll give them the short answer, the one that they understand, the answer that makes them back away before they learn how broken I am.

My favorite colors are purple, blue, and red. Like a bruise