Personal Prose Pt.5

When you move back home you become the person you were when you left. 

The problem is I don’t like this person. 

The shy and lonely girl who left 12 months ago. 

I can feel the shyness growing in my throat becoming a smile rather than a response in conversation. 

I’ve lost my bark and my bite. 

Isolation however is doing wonders for my creative soul, no distractions from the outside world. 

But creativity comes at a cost. 

Art can make others feel happy or sad but it cannot rescue my stability. 

Is my mediocre art really worth my mind?

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