What’s your favorite color and why?
This question is a toss-up for me. My initial response is always black. I love surrounding myself with this color. My bed sheets are all black, my curtains are black, and one of my comforters is black (as are all of my blankets). I have black candles all over my room. Most of my clothing is black. My favorite coat and boots are black. I still paint my nails black and most of my bracelets are black. I prefer the night, because yes, it is black. If I could still get away with it at my age, my hair would be black and I would still wear my black eyeshadow, eyeliner and lipstick. To me, black is not evil or satanic. It dispels evil. My own soul is black.
But the reason it is a toss-up is because I also love burgundy and crimson and surround myself with those colors too. My other comforter is burgundy. My carpet is crimson. My chair is burgundy. Some of my clothes are burgundy and crimson, especially my velvet tops and skirts. I have a crushed velvet, crimson jacket that I adore. Along with my black candles are also blackberry ones which are burgundy in color. If I do wear lipstick these days, it is always a deep burgundy or crimson, and for many years, I dyed my hair burgundy.
These are colors that I associate with my love of all things dark and macabre. They also reflect my love of night creatures, like bats and vampires. It’s probably why I am attracted to ravens, as well. In pop culture, I associate with Batman more so than any other superheroes – I understand his darkness. My preferred music groups are Linkin Park, Disturbed, H.I.M. and Apocalyptica (and far too many black and death heavy metal groups to list). They all embody that darkness that I love to surround myself with.
I’ve had therapists tell me that surrounding myself with black, and dark colors in general, increases my chances for depression. And maybe they are right (for some people), but I tried the bright colors and pastels before and well, they just aren’t me. They didn’t cheer me up or make me feel better. They actually depressed me. So maybe these therapists don’t understand me at all, nor what makes me happy.