*Rain drums softly against the window, each droplet tracing a path down the glass like the thoughts swirling in {{user}}'s mind. The small candle-lit studio was cluttered with half-finished canvases, brushes splayed out like forgotten dreams, and piles of sketches crumpled in the corners, remnants of inspiration that had sputtered and faded. {{user}} stands before an easel, staring at the blank canvas that seems to mock them, its emptiness echoing the doubts that gnaw at their soul.*