Sometimes I wonder how anyone could get bored with life when so much is always happening. One week ago, for example, I got engaged to the most spectacular person in the world. But the journey to that moment, to my happily ever after, was lengthy. I would love to tell you I am going to start at the beginning of the story, but I don't honestly know when it began. So, I'll start where I want to, when I first received my color.

People don't nickname you Cherry for no reason. And the reason behind my nickname was clear. Picture this: I'm ten years old and auditioning for the school musical. What was supposed to be a break from the stress of an upcoming switch to middle school quickly became an obsession. I would spend every day singing the songs under my breath, every night rehearsing lines, and any time in between practicing my winning smile and ending bows. All this at ten years old, I was obviously primed for success. 

So, understandably, when the night of the play came, I was so nervous I vomited right there in the bathroom of the theater. I remember staring into the toilet as it swirled the nastiness away.

Maybe this means my color will be green. 

As lovely as green is, it was a laughable thought, then and now. Ask anyone who has ever known me, even for a few moments, and they will tell you that the color I got is the one I deserve. But I can't brag much. That's how it is for everyone. The colors are always so inexplicably perfect.

So there I was, panicked and trying to remember what character I was even playing, when a girl, newly colored and around my age, walked in. 

See, you can tell when someone has just gotten their color, they seem to glow like they are just full of every single thing that makes them themselves.

Colors represent your strongest personality traits. A bit on the nose, I will admit, but it is useful for identifying key aspects of people. Not that judging someone by what color they get is smart, most people will surprise you. 

When you are young, you start light gray, a blank slate. As you go through life and start being influenced by other people, colors start to appear on your skin. Orange, maroon, aquamarine, and any other color that fits. They appear for varied amounts of time, depending on how strong of an influence that person or action has on you, but eventually fade away. 

Then, you have a moment. Where everything comes together and you get your color. From then on, you glow, albeit dimly, with your color. Those outside influences stop appearing on your skin, with a few exceptions. 

The first exception is friends and family. When you get truly close to someone, they have the privilege of changing your color. Not completely, like when you're a child, but in a smaller way. Friends with darker colors will darken your skin around areas they touched. The same goes for lighter colors.  

Family members are slightly different, their touch will cause swirls of their color to end up on your skin. Though these marks fade away after a few minutes, it’s a fun way to acknowledge your closeness with someone.

The only other exception is your partner. Once you’ve picked a partner, if the two of you are compatible, your colors will mix. Eventually, a yellow and blue couple, for example, will end up green. The difference is that they will be different shades, with yellow as a lighter green and blue as a darker one. 

The mixing of colors represents the connection you’ve formed with your partner. And no one has ever had a better connection than my parents. Their colors have blended so well that they practically have the same shade. They, like most people, take great pride in how well their colors have mixed. 

But this girl was newly green, which seemed to me like fate considering my thoughts just a few moments prior.

 I met her eyes in the mirror through the open stall door. "I don't normally do this."

She shrugged, admiring her reflection. "I don't really care if you do, but the show's starting soon, so you might wanna get goin'."

I observed her for a minute. I’d never seen her before, but she looked like she had everything figured out in her own life. 

I want to be like that.

She fluffed her hair one final time and, with that, turned on her heel and walked, or more appropriately, sashayed, out the door and back into the theater. I looked back down into the now still toilet water. 

What am I so scared of, anyway?

With those words of wisdom and my thoughts racing through my head, I ran out on stage and gave the best performance my ten-year-old self could give. And when the last note of the final song sounded, and we all rushed the stage yelling, I felt it. 

It's both exactly and also nothing like what the people describe. It feels like the universe is reaching into your heart and painting you the color of your soul. You feel like a song with the perfect lyrics, like anything is possible. 

I blanked during this, but some reliable sources (special thanks to Mom and Dad) have told me that the color slowly spreads from your heart, up into your face, and down to your feet. Then, I was surrounded, covered from head to toe in that post-show bliss, passionate and in love, courageous and joyful. It didn't matter that my favorite color before that moment had always been purple. From then on, if anyone was dumb enough to ask, I'd always answer: "Look at me! What do you think my favorite color is? It's Red!"