I simply can't feel at home without being surrounded by colour. It's comforting, all the little details, all the colours and shapes and textures. I fill my home with the things I desire, the things that bring me joy, and things that hold dear memories.
This kind of living is another large reason why I don't share a home with anyone else. Most people I've met live in these depressing, bland places devoid of any sort of real personal touches. It makes me lonely to be someplace dominated by bare walls and emptiness. I keep hoping someday I'll maybe find a trustworthy, hygienic hippie friend with whom I could make a home. But until then, I live in this kaleidoscopic wonderland with just my thoughts as company.