The colorless artist

The artist once again looked at the empty canvas in front of her. She felt her heart sink as she looked at the ruffled brushes on the wooden table beside her. The dried up paint tubes laid all over the floor with the other art supplies she had once used. She didn`t bother to pick them up, she wasn`t going to use them any ways.
The artist looked at the room which where once her creative place, it was the place she used to be in when she wanted to paint her feelings, she could stay there for hours up on hours just standing there, painting. But that was a long time ago. She had lost the flame that once burned inside her chest when she felt inspired, she could no longer feel the light brush strokes turn into fast movements over the canvas. It was a long time ago since she felt the amusement when she saw that the painting came together. just like she had imagined in her mind when she lifted up the brush and dipped it in the vibrant colors.
Her world had been painted with a gray, cold color, a color she was not able to paint over.
The artist looked at the empty canvas one last time and then turned around. She walked to the door she had once painted with the colors of the rainbow, but all she could see was gray, gray, and more gray.
The desire to paint had been crushed, just like the world she had fallen in love with...