This Thing I Have With Purple

On Halloween, my friends and I dressed up as Donna & the Dynamos (from Mamma Mia!) and I wore this tight purple shirt with wide sleeves that draped around my arms, leaving me swimming in purple 
 and when everyone saw me, they saw, ooo, purple is your color! and I was happy at the compliment but somewhat miffed since I don’t normally wear too much purple (maybe never?)
 like, I’ll wear all the shades of blue, green, pink, yellow, white, or black, but only two of my shirts are purple (including the Halloween one), and I keep them at the bottom of my drawer where they are rarely seen (everyday the other clothes push them farther back into my drawer)
 so what I mean is that purple irks me (?) and I’m unsure why, but it’s like one day everything’s fine and then the next you’ve got this big dark purple bruise blossoming across your arm (where’d it come from?)(it’s like the purpley-blue royal blood of a prince spilling out into the bathtub [a childhood memory from a movie that shocked me])(it’s like the eminence colored witches I once dressed up as for Halloween [but now I’m a Dynamo])(it’s hairy tarantulas with their rotting thistle shaded eyelashes)(it’s heliotrope and it scares me)
 but then: my favorite body wash is lavender scented, my moisturizer is the color of lilacs (one of the smells I look forward to so dearly each spring), I’m knitting a purple-periwinkle cardigan, my keychain is a dreamy, sleepy, tired light purple that reminds me of sunsets and oh my god I love all of these clouds-at-dusk things and their overwhelming beauty
 and I’m desperately confused because what is going on between me and the color purple?
 and when I ask my sister about it, she replies, well, your name is purple, and in saying that decides for me that this thing I have with purple is a good one