First personal singular? POV advice needed

Okay, so as many of you know, I've been working on this novel for a l-o-n-g time, like, an embarrassingly long time. At this point, I know my characters so well that I feel like we should all go on vacation together...but somehow, not a lot gets down on paper. (I've considered doing NanoWriMo, but November is really a busy month for me. To do NanoWriMo, you pretty much just go to work and write...and maybe eat every now and then...but forget about sleeping. I would do better with that in August. Maybe I can just ask them to change it for me!) My latest excuse for the lack of progress is that I'm torn between using first person point of view and third person. There are definite advantages to each, but I'm having trouble making a decision.

So...you get to help! (Yipee!) I'll give you some excerpts, some with first person POV and one with third, and you can tell me (here in the comments, by e-mail, by phone or actually by talking to me in person), what you like best. To give you some really basic background: The novel centers around the protagonist, Ari (17), in the aftermath of the death of her best friend, Jonathan (who died in a house fire). (Also, these snippets may or may not find any place in the final story.)

Snippet #1 (third person): The bleating "wah" of the sirens draws her up from the depths of sleep. She surfaces--as if a swimmer-- with an exhale, as her mind registers and catalogs the sound. Then she sinks back into unconsciousness as sleep laps against her limbs.

The calls begin at dawn, less than three hours later.

She feels as though she's moving underwater, movements slow and awkward, words choked. She forgets what it's like to have lungs full of air, longs for that crisp sensation.

Snippet #2 (first person): My grandfather worked in the mills in Lewiston. He moved to Portland and took up mechanics when I was six, but I can still remember the burnt plastic smell that hung in the air from the factories. Now to that, I add the smell of Jonathan's smoldering house, of his burning flesh. I went to a barbecue and vomitted. I hate fire.

Snippet #3 (first person): My skin is ill-fitting, suddenly shrunken too small. My ribs, my teeth, my bones itch. I am constantly suspended in that moment of anxious exhileration just before a coaster's drop. I want off the ride, and it seems I have bought the wrong ticket.

Please give me your opinion (even if it's that it all sucks, and I should employ my time in other endeavors!). Let me know what you think about POV and anything else (but especially POV). Thanks for reading! (And if no one is reading, well, at least this got me to type some stuff out of my notebooks.)