Why I wear black.
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Why I wear black.
Why is black my favorite color? Why is it all I wear? It wasn't always my favorite color. Purple used to be, back when I was happy and carefree. Red is the color of blood... so much blood. Blue was the color of the plastic lining I broke to get the blade out of my pencil sharpener green is the color of the grass those boys used to push my face into as they kicked me. Yellow is the color my bruises would turn. White is the color that represents the naivety and innocence that I lost a long time ago. Orange was the color of my chewable vitamins that I took because I couldn't swallow pills, but now I try and swallow a bottle full of pills. A whole rainbow of colors that remind me of something terrible. And ,although, I have learned to fight back, I still can't wear them. Black reminds me of my smoker lungs and vastly barren eyes. It reminds me of midnight when I was all alone. But finally safe to let it all out. It reminds me of the time I hit the boy bullying me and gave him a black eye. It reminds me of my shadow dancing as I ran away with a foreign feeling in my chest. Power. I learned to fight back and I have friends, but those colors still haunt me. Especially red and blue, with a touch of silver for the blade.
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I too love the color black. ... There was a time when I wanted to wear nothing but that color. It's not a color that flatters me, but it's elegant, and it's rare for someone to wear black around me and it go unappreciated. I especially love that color on redheads and some blondes. Nothing short of stunning.
Oh, my actual favorite color is teal.
Oh, my actual favorite color is teal.
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