White was too pure for me, even then. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t take the fact that if something- anything– touched the wall, then it was ruined. The whole thing. Because you can’t paint over a white wall. The spot you paint over, if you do, will look newer. Whiter. Some kind of different shade of light grey that you didn’t intend to see. And I can’t deal with that.
I can’t deal with the brightness of the color, either. You’d think that some solid colors would be dull, and that you can handle them, but oh-no. A white room is like the sun’s core when there’s a light on, and that’s hard to handle.
There’s something daunting about the color white, too. So revealing. So no-secrets-y. There’s no escaping the color white.
So I bought a roller and painted the room black.
You can hide in black, you can cover up in it. It looks better anyway.