Fine, because you can't end this because of your massive f*CKING ego, here are the ways you can stop it:

Commit any capital crime,

Or

Cut off your fingers so you can't write, that will also remedy what you said about writing stories a while ago,

Or

Invent a time machine and travel two hundred years in the future. If the air's still breathable and there's more life than primitive bioods and bacterial ooze, you could even stay there.

Poecilotheria Dunwithisforeversobuzzoffallica