she sat, not quietly, on the computer.  staring at the screen, waiting for words to come.  her physical discomfort seemed to take over the usual mental unrest.  she continued typing whatever words reached her fingertips.  she reminded herself that her particular brand of creativity was best fueled by unhappiness, be it in the present or from the unresolved past. this was something she probably shared with many other people. the thought that she shared something with other people pleased her.  but why this?