What Colour Are My Eyes? 😍

What colour are my eyes?

It sounds like a simple question. Most people would answer without hesitation: brown, blue, green, hazel, grey. A fact. A label. A shade on the outside that says something about genetics and nothing about soul. But for me, that question holds layers. It’s not just about pigment. It’s about perception. It’s about story. It’s about how you see yourself… and how the world sees you back.

So, what colour are my eyes?

Some say brown. Others see amber when the sun hits just right. Someone once told me they look like melted chocolate—warm, sweet, familiar. Another person said they look like coffee: strong, rich, with a hint of mystery. And maybe that’s the truth—maybe they change, depending on the light, the mood, the moment.

Because my eyes aren’t just eyes. They’re memory-keepers.

They’ve seen joy—pure, unstoppable joy. They’ve lit up at birthdays, sparkled at surprises, widened with wonder at falling snow, first kisses, sunsets on rooftops, or the feeling of dancing without fear. They’ve closed tightly in laughter, watering with happiness so full it couldn’t be contained.

They’ve seen pain, too. They’ve welled up during nights that felt too heavy. They’ve stared blankly at ceilings, asking silent questions. They’ve watched people walk away, and sometimes, they were the last to say goodbye. They’ve cried—openly, quietly, secretly. Because these eyes have lived, not just looked.

But beyond all that, my eyes reflect something deeper. Something invisible to mirrors. They show my fire. My softness. My dreams. They show my story, one glance at a time.

What colour are my eyes?

They’re the colour of every late night spent writing my heart out. They’re the shade of strength I didn’t know I had until life tested me. They reflect the softness I carry for the people I love. They shine with curiosity when I’m learning something new, and flicker with excitement when I talk about something I’m passionate about.

They’re not just brown or hazel or gold. They’re alive.

Someone once told me, “Your eyes speak before your mouth does.” And I’ve always held that close. Because sometimes, words fall short. But eyes? Eyes are honest. They can’t hide the truth, even when you try. My eyes have betrayed me when I’ve said “I’m fine” and didn’t mean it. They’ve revealed joy when I tried to stay calm. They’ve glowed around the right people and dimmed around the wrong ones. Eyes are windows, they say. And my windows have been wide open—whether I realized it or not.

But here’s the funny thing: most people never notice. They’re too focused on the surface. On what’s expected. They ask what colour my eyes are, but don’t take the time to see them. Not really. They don’t lean in. They don’t look past the obvious. They don’t ask, “What stories live behind those eyes?”

Except the rare ones. The ones who see more.

Those people? They look at me and say, “There’s a lot going on behind those eyes, isn’t there?” And I smile. Because they get it. They know that eyes aren’t just for seeing—they’re for being seen.

So, what colour are my eyes?

They’re the colour of resilience. Of falling down and standing up—again and again. They’re the colour of laughter after tears, of hope after heartbreak. They’ve changed over the years, not physically, but emotionally. They’ve deepened. They’ve learned. They’ve softened where they were once sharp. They’ve become more patient, more forgiving, more open to the messiness of life.

They’re also the colour of love.

Because when I look at the people I love, something shifts. My eyes shine in a different way—full of admiration, comfort, safety. And when someone sees me with that same look? That’s magic. That’s connection. That’s when I know I’m truly being seen—not just as a face, but as a soul.

So, what colour are my eyes? 😍

They’re the colour of everything I’ve been through. The people I’ve met. The places I’ve seen. The lessons I’ve learned. They’re not just a colour—they’re a story. A journey. A feeling.

They’re mine.

And maybe the exact shade doesn’t matter. Maybe what matters is that they reflect me—unapologetically, fully, beautifully.

Next time someone asks, I might just smile and say:

“Look closely. You tell me.”

Because if you really look—if you see past the surface—you’ll know.

My eyes are the colour of love, strength, light, and life.

And they’re beautiful.