Narration One

For her, sometimes words seem like they can describe what you see and feel better than anything else. Photographs capture single moments... if taken properly, they can freeze time to a glossy sheet of paper and can convey the emotions of the moment for the rest of time. But that's difficult to do.
Words are even more difficult... and she treasures them more than anything.
Letters, symbols... concepts strung together that can convey moments if properly assembled. It's a matching game, and if done right she has a work to be proud of.
For years now, she stares at a blank computer screen waiting for inspiration. It rarely comes to her anymore.
As a child, she wrote constantly. Straining her eyes for hours, from after school until it was so late at night it was actually early in the morning, focusing only on the dim, yellow tinted computer screen in the dark basement by herself. Sometimes the cat came to keep her company, but for the most part it was only the crickets that evaded that very same cat. She didn't need any company, though. She had her stories. She had her characters.
She had few friends... really, only one. They wrote all the time and told each other stories. But really, all that she wanted, all that she needed were her own stories.
She wrote what she wished. It made everything in life better...
Now, though, she cannot write. No cohesive stories, at least. Poems every now and then, but they can't hold a candle the satisfaction she got from completing a chapter or a character outline. She writes random narrations of her life; she illustrates moments in her life, obscure chains of thought, in hopes that they will spark some of that brilliant creativity she once prided her self upon. They leave her feeling empty, hollowed out like a shell of her former twelve-year-old novelist self.
She has no place to let out her thoughts like she once could, and now they build up in her mind. Her life is the greatest story she has ever written, and she seems to have written it all out too soon... nothing is left in her, and the life she'll never lead is lost to nothingness, gone with the files of all her stories on that ancient, jaundiced computer.