The writer who sits at her computer with a head full of ideas but produces nothing but gibberish is hardly a writer all.

She wants to write about the loss of youth, her unsteady sense of identity, things throughout her day that make her happy, about the star she stared at for a good fifteen minutes because it twinkled and how much she hates being unable to remember her dreams.

This girl, this "writer", has so many things to write about but nothing comes out. Her words sound ridiculous. Her sentences look absurd. Nothing seems to be working in her favor when it comes to actually "writing" all this stuff out. It's tiring; the type/delete, type/delete, type/delete cycle she's caught in. It would make anyone dizzy, especially if they were as motion-sensitive as she is. 

One day of sense, that's all she needs. A teeny-tiny moment of clarity where things just kind of click and fall into place right under her fingertips.