Reborn was never a color I planned.
It was something I saw… and immediately knew not to touch.
No tweaking.
No mixing.
No trying to make it better.
It was already what it needed to be.
I remember the exact moment I saw it — scrolling, looking through pigments, and then it stopped me. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t obvious. It didn’t beg for attention.
But it held it.
The shade had this… unexplainable tone to it. Gray. Green. Purple. Something in between all of them, but not fully any of them. Depending on how the light hit it, it shifted. Not in a dramatic, color-changing way… but in a way that made you question what you were looking at.
One second it felt soft.
The next it felt deep.
Then suddenly… it felt almost untouchable.
It didn’t belong to one mood.
It had its own.
There was something about it that felt… intimate.
Not in a loud way. Not in a performative way. But in a way that felt like it wasn’t meant for everyone to understand.
Like it held a version of you that only shows up in certain moments. Quiet moments. Private moments. Moments where you’re not explaining yourself… you’re just existing.
Reborn wasn’t a color I could connect to a memory.
I couldn’t tie it to my childhood.
I couldn’t tie it to a place.
I couldn’t even fully explain where I would wear it.
But I felt it.
And sometimes… that’s enough.
Looking back, I realize why I named it Reborn.
Because it felt like something I hadn’t fully stepped into yet.
A version of me that was still forming. Still becoming. Still learning how to exist without needing to be defined.
It was different.
It was bold… but quiet at the same time.
It didn’t ask to be understood.
It just was.
And I think that’s what made it so powerful.
Reborn wasn’t about where I had been.
It was about who I was becoming… before I even had the words for it.
REBORN
