I suppose I’ve lived with bipolar disorder since puberty, but having a proper diagnosis (and treatment) really does make a big difference. I’ve been finding my identity with it since then.
Purple, red plus blue. My hair has changed like the seasons since puberty, unsurprisingly. Purple is the next color. I’m waiting for the dye to arrive. Purple is symbolic, I am the sum of my parts.
A cactus is prickly on the outside and soft and sweet on the inside. My MBTI is INTJ, factor that into the equation and suddenly I am a cacophony of difficult to read parts. I am not the soft, pretty flower. I am the cactus, I am hardy, and I will survive. I keep many cacti. I have no green thumb, but also I like them. Maybe I’ve known deep down I am like them for a while. I would like a cactus piece tattooed on me eventually. Of course, I presently have two tattoos actively queued. I suppose the cactus makes three.
I look back and see the same sentiments echoed throughout my life. Always there, I just never paid them much mind. This is my life now