I always said black. When people asked, “What’s your favorite color?” I’d say it fast and they’d frown and go, “But that’s not a color.” Exactly. I liked that it wasn’t anything. Just a shade. It was cool, I guess, but really, it was just the only thing I could see in that hole. That goddamn hole I never want to fall into again. I said I liked green and brown too. Nature colors. Earthy. A lot of people liked them, so I borrowed them for a while. It was never about the colors anyway. It was about the feeling of fitting somewhere, even if I had to squint. I started liking navy blue quietly. Secretly. Like a song you don’t tell anyone about because it feels too yours. I didn’t announce it. Didn’t rebrand myself. I just wore it and hoped no one would notice. They did. They said, “Navy blue looks good on you.” Not blue. Not light blue. Not any blue. Navy blue. Time paused. Or maybe my heart did. Because they noticed something I hadn’t told anyone. And I felt seen. At first, I thought it was about them, like they were the one giving me permission to exist in my little color world. But no, it was never about them. It was about me. Me being too passionate to keep something for myself. Me leaking myself into the world even when I try not to. I’m bad at hiding the things I love. I leak interest, i spill care, i glow a little when something feels right. Maybe it’s because I used to think that if you like something, you have to stick with it forever. But lately I’ve been learning that the more I let go, the freer I become. Letting go is how you breathe. There goes another piece of myself, navy blue next to black. Next to all the other pieces I thought I had to choose between. If I were a color, I think I’d be navy blue. I’d still keep black around, just in case.