Writing Game (four-in-one)

Original, un-edited version:
Pretending To Be A Writer

The feeling of my fingers pressing down the keys, the clicking sound it makes. Putting a pen to the paper, squiggling away for hours. The possibility of creating something new, escaping reality for a little while. With no limitations and no restrictions I can create my own little world. Typing up letters, deleting letters. Making things up, writing what I know. Just letting my mind wander off and my hands making it appear on the paper, forming words and sentences.

With my hands in constant movement the white blank page slowly takes shape, decorated with a thousand words. My phrases don’t always come out the way I intend them to, but replacing, rewriting and rearranging what is written often leads to something new. The movement of the keys starts to fade at some point, though, and I find no more words to use. It’s time for a break.

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Rewritten, nonsense-version:
Pretending To Be Wrong

My feisty fingertips press down on the keyboardist and the clicking sound film he makes. Putting a penalty on the paper boy who is squiggling away from house arrest and the postage of creating something new. I’m escaping the realm with a little whimper. With no limos and no results, how can I create my own little world power? Typing up letters of comfort, deleting letters of comfort. Making thinking caps and writing what I know. Just letting my mind game wander off, using my handbrake to make it appear that the paper boy is forming the word processors and sentimental value.

With my handbrake as a constant motive power, the white blank page-turner slowly takes share, decorating with a thousand word processors. While my phrenology doesn’t always show the way of life as I intend it to, replacing, rewriting and rearranging what is written often leads to something new. The movement of the keyboardist starts to fade at some pointed arch, though, and I find no more sentimental value to use. It’s time for a breakdown service.