Psychologists think your favorite color can say a lot about your personality.
The color you like might reveal your strengths, weaknesses, and how you connect with others.
If you have a favorite color, keep reading to find out what it could mean about you and your emotions.
Color Purple
If your favorite color is purple, you’re someone who trusts your gut instincts. You’ve learned that listening to your intuition usually leads to the right choices.
You have a big heart and like to help others when they need it. At the same time, you’re a perfectionist who seeks emotional balance. You’re also a keen observer who doesn’t miss a thing.
People see you as a visionary with the power to draw others in with your strong charisma.
You’re unique in everything you do and never worry about fitting in. Your creative spirit pushes you to follow your own path.
Color Black
Black might not be the flashiest color, but it stands for confidence and purpose. People who love black are often natural leaders who like to have control over their lives.
You’re independent, strong, and classy. You prefer to keep your life private and only share personal details with people you really trust. You speak with confidence and authority, and your self-control can sometimes make you seem a bit intimidating.
You’re polite, well-spoken, and have a traditional, above-average style.
Color Red
You’re someone with a lot of motivation and determination. You’re not afraid to take risks and take the lead.
If red is your favorite color, it means you’re passionate, outgoing, and confident. You can be a bit impulsive and have a strong personality. You’re driven to reach your goals and won’t give up easily. While some may see red lovers as quick-tempered, they are generally positive, loving people.
Color Pink
If pink is your favorite color, it’s all about love!
You’re compassionate and caring, and people know they can always count on you for support. You have a big heart and often put others’ needs before your own. Your kindness and encouragement help you build strong, lasting friendships.
You tend to see the world in a positive way, like the saying about looking at life through “rose-colored glasses.”
The lovers of pink wear their heart on their sleeve and are delicate and sensitive human beings.
Color White
If white is your favorite color, you’re seen as organized, independent, and logical.
You tend to be reserved, but you have high standards for yourself and others. You respect boundaries and value clear thinking in everything you do. When you’re disappointed, you might struggle with it, but you’re good at showing control over your life and emotions, even if you’re feeling differently inside.
Color Orange
You enjoy being accepted and part of a group. Your social life is really important to you, and you love being around people and going to social events.
You’re fun to be with and live in the moment.
If orange is your favorite color, you’re a problem-solver who loves to inspire others. You spread positive energy and make people feel good.
You don’t shy away from challenges but you can also be irresponsible at times.
Overall, the lovers of orange are considered warm, friendly, and inviting.
Color Blue
Blue is often linked to water and the sky, which brings feelings of relaxation and calm. People who are drawn to these feelings are seen as empathetic, honest, reliable, and good at solving problems.
If you’re attracted to blue, it means you’re thoughtful and guided by your heart. You tend to be more spiritual and have a creative side.
You usually have traditional beliefs and like to find peaceful places when things get stressful. You care for your relationships and value your close family and friends.
In chaotic situations, you stay calm and keep things organized. Because you believe in fairness, people see you as trustworthy, friendly, and approachable.
Color Green
People who love green are known for being moral, trustworthy, and sensitive. They’re often guided by their emotions and seen as loyal and supportive friends.
You’re a lively, down-to-earth person who seeks harmony and values acceptance.
Green is often linked to health and balance, and those who like this color tend to be very intelligent and strive for perfection.
You feel a special connection to nature and love being outdoors. You also seek balance and try to avoid chaos as much as possible.
You’re good at seeing the bigger picture and understanding different viewpoints. Others admire your clarity and ability to see things broadly.
Green is often linked to prosperity and financial success.
Color Grey
Grey is often seen as a color of calmness, reliability, and practicality. It suggests a preference for balance and moderation, avoiding extreme actions or feelings.
People who love grey often prefer a minimalist style and appreciate depth and subtlety instead of flashy choices.
Those drawn to grey tend to have a calm and steady personality. They like to stay grounded and avoid being influenced by strong emotions. They value stability and consistency and choose a balanced approach to life over chaos and extremes.
After My Brother’s Funeral, His Widow Gave Me a Letter – I Wasn’t Ready for What He’d Confessed
At my brother’s funeral, I expected sorrow and silence, not a sealed letter that would turn my world upside down. What he confessed inside rewrote everything I thought I knew about my family.
The sky was gray the morning of my brother’s funeral. The kind of gray that seeps into your bones. Cold, quiet, still.
A gloomy day at a cemetery | Source: Pexels
I stood beside my parents near the front of the small chapel. My black coat felt too tight. My shoes pinched. But I didn’t care. None of that mattered. What mattered was that Eric was gone.
People filled the seats. Some cried. Some just stared ahead. My mother sat stiff, clutching a tissue she never used. Her eyes stayed dry.
“Are you okay, Mom?” I whispered.
People at a funeral service | Source: Pexels
She nodded but didn’t look at me. “Fine, Lily. Just tired.”
She wasn’t fine. She was strange. Distant.
My dad leaned toward a cousin in the second row, whispering something I couldn’t hear. When he noticed me watching, he turned away fast.
Something felt off. Not just sadness. Something else.
A woman standing near a coffin | Source: Pexels
I kept catching them looking at me. My mom. My dad. And then looking away like they were guilty.
Eric’s widow, Laura, sat alone a few rows ahead. Her shoulders shook as she wiped her face. Real tears. Real pain. She didn’t fake it.
When the service ended, people left in twos and threes. Some hugged me. Some said nothing. I barely noticed.
A young woman at a funeral | Source: Pexels
Outside, the wind picked up. I stood by a tree near the parking lot, just needing air.
That’s when I saw Laura, walking toward me with something in her hands.
“Lily,” she said. Her voice cracked. “I need to give you this.”
“What is it?”
A woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
She held out an envelope. My name was written on the front in Eric’s handwriting.
“He asked me to give it to you. After.”
I stared at it. “After what?”
She looked away. “After everything.”
Two women talking at a funeral | Source: Midjourney
I took it with shaking hands. The envelope felt heavier than paper should.
“Did he… say anything else?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Just that it was important.”
I didn’t open it right away. I didn’t want to. Not yet.
A sealed letter on a table | Source: Pexels
I drove home in silence. I sat in the car for a while, staring at the envelope in my lap. My name looked strange in his writing. Like he was still here. Like he’d speak if I opened it.
But I didn’t. Not yet. My mind went back. To him. To us.
Eric was never the warm kind. No hugs. No late-night talks. He never called just to say hi.
A serious man looking at the camera | Source: Pexels
But he always showed up. He came to my high school graduation. Sat in the front row, silent, hands folded.
When I was in the hospital with the flu at sixteen, he was there. Just sitting. Didn’t say much. But didn’t leave.
He was like a shadow. Always around. Never close.
Sometimes, when I looked at him, I felt something more. Like there was something he wanted to say but never did.
A serious man looking to his side | Source: Pexels
He’d glance at me, open his mouth, then close it again. Now he never would.
I walked into my house, sat at the kitchen table, and stared at the envelope one more time. Then I broke the seal.
The paper inside the envelope was folded once. It smelled faintly like him—old books and cologne. My hands shook as I opened it.
A woman opening a letter | Source: Pexels
My dearest Lily,
There’s no easy way to write this. I’ve started and stopped this letter more times than I can count. If you’re reading it, then I never found the courage to say this to your face. I’m sorry for that.
Lily… I’m not just your brother. I’m your father.
I stared at the words. My heart dropped. My stomach twisted.
A shocked woman reading a letter | Source: Pexels
I was fifteen. Young. Stupid. I fell in love with someone who got scared when she found out she was pregnant. She wanted to leave, to run. My parents stepped in. They said they’d raise you as their own—and that I could be your brother. It was supposed to protect you.
But I never stopped being your dad. Not for a single day.
Tears blurred the words. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater.
A man writing a letter | Source: Pexels
I wanted to tell you every time you smiled. Every birthday. Every school play. I wanted to say, ‘That’s my girl.’ But I didn’t. Because I was a boy pretending to be someone I wasn’t.
So I watched you grow from the side. I showed up when I could. I stayed close, but never too close. That was the deal. And the older you got, the harder it got.
A woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave. You deserved more than silence. You deserved the truth.
I love you, Lily. Always.
Love, Dad
The word Dad hit me like a wave.
A shocked woman looking at a letter | Source: Pexels
I dropped the letter and pressed my hands over my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. I cried right there at the kitchen table. Ugly, loud sobs. My chest ached. My whole life had shifted in the space of one page.
That night, I didn’t sleep.
The next morning, I drove to Laura’s house. She opened the door slowly. Her eyes were red, like mine.
A grieving woman opening the door of her house | Source: Midjourney
“You read it,” she whispered.
I nodded.
“Can I come in?”
She stepped aside. We sat in her living room in silence.
A sad woman sitting in her chair | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t know until after we got married,” she finally said. “He told me one night after a bad dream. He was shaking. I asked what was wrong, and he told me everything.”
I looked at her. “Why didn’t he ever tell me?”
Laura swallowed hard. “He wanted to. So many times. But he was scared. Scared it would break your heart. Scared you’d hate him.”
An upset woman looking down | Source: Pexels
I rubbed my hands together. “It makes sense now. All of it. The distance. The quiet way he loved me. It always felt like something was being held back.”
“He loved you more than anything, Lily. That letter tore him apart. But he made me promise—if anything ever happened to him, I had to give it to you.”
“I didn’t know him,” I whispered. “Not really.”
One woman comforting the other one | Source: Pexels
Laura reached for my hand. “You did. You just didn’t know why he was the way he was.”
I nodded slowly. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I didn’t wipe it away.
“I wish he’d told me sooner.”
“So did he.”
A crying woman looking at the camera | Source: Pexels
We sat quietly again. Nothing more needed to be said. But I knew what I had to do next.
I parked outside the house I grew up in. It looked the same. White shutters, neat yard, small porch. But it felt different now—like a place built on secrets.
I rang the bell. My mom opened the door, her smile ready. It dropped the second she saw my face.
A serious woman standing on the porch | Source: Midjourney
“Lily?”
“We need to talk.”
She stepped back without a word.
My dad was in the kitchen, sipping coffee. He looked up, startled.
“Hey, sweetheart—”
A mature man drinking coffee | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I said, my voice sharper than I meant. “Why did you lie to me my whole life?”
They exchanged a look. My mom sat down. Her hands trembled.
“We didn’t lie,” she said softly. “We were trying to protect you.”
“From what? From the truth? From my own father?”
A sad mature woman | Source: Pexels
“You were a baby,” my dad said. “We thought it would be easier. Simpler.”
“For who? Me? Or you?”
My mom’s eyes filled. “We didn’t want you to feel different. Or confused. Eric was so young. He wasn’t ready.”
“He was ready,” I snapped. “He showed up for me in ways you didn’t even notice. He was there. Always. But I never got to call him Dad. Not once.”
A shouting young woman | Source: Pexels
My mother stood and tried to touch my arm. I stepped back.
“Don’t,” I said. “Please.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We were scared.”
I nodded slowly. “Well, now I’m the one who’s scared. Because I don’t know who I am anymore. And I don’t know how to forgive you.”
A crying woman wiping her nose | Source: Pexels
My father set his mug down like it weighed too much. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be here.”
“I need space,” I said. “That’s all I can ask for right now.”
They didn’t argue. My mom wiped her eyes. My dad just nodded.
I walked out, the letter pressed to my chest like it was the only thing keeping me standing.
A woman walking out clutching a letter to her chest | Source: Midjourney
That night, I sat alone in my apartment, the letter open on the table again. I read it slowly, tracing the lines with my finger.
The pain was still there. But something else was too. Peace. A beginning.
I found a small frame in the back of my closet. I placed the letter inside and set it on my bookshelf.
Right in the center. Where I could see it every day.
A framed letter on a sunlit bookshelf | Source: Midjourney
He was my father. And now, I finally know.
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