Acting class

One time i had a pen, in my hand i held it tight and didn't let go even if it happend to sting. I had started to wright but I couldn't think of any lines. The pen was hot, burning my palm and giving me red rashes. I kept wrighting, wrighting nothing I knew of. These words weren't mine and these letters didn't come from me, it was as if I blind. I couldn't look down and I couldn't stop, my hand moving on it's own. When I stopped I instantly looked down. On the page was a rewriten life, my life. As if it was a fairy tale I erazed and rewrote my laugh and smile. I rewrote the way I moved, the way I ate and the way I talked. Rewrighting every little dent in a car and rewrighting every foot step in the snow untill I became to be no more. The book closed and the fairy tale ended as if it was never move from it's place on the bookshelf.