Blood drains from my jugular as my brain leaks into the drain and the cops are calling the party off

My manic insane funny spirit is done and there is only pain and sadness left as the coffee effects slowly wear off. Typing on phone is awful for me but I'll try my best to avoid typos. Having listened to BFMY for 4 hours probably contributed heavily to this state of being for me. I have always been an awful fiction writer but I always had interest in it when I was younger right until I found fighting games, then I just quit it for some reason that I am not sure of. During this time I came up with lots of concepts and wrote a lot of short stories and attempted lots of long stories episodically, and a fair chunk of those were posted onto a blog that has now been removed entirely from the internet due to it being comprised of depression fueled by teenage hormones. One such concept that took birth way before all this was a fictional universe of "Y-men", so called because their entire concept art designed by this abject failure of a masculine being was based around turning