Steampunk iPhone posted:

I don't know why I haven't killed myself yet. Life is so unfulfilled without my foreskin. In the same way a Christian might have a daily moment of silence to reflect upon the teachings of Jesus Christ, I take time every day to mourn the loss of a body part responsible for a significant portion of what defines who I am.

I've attempted suicide several times, but just like I can't have competent sex due to my emasculated mutilated half-penis, I fail at being masculine enough to carry it through to completion. Foreskin restoration is just a lie to tell yourself that you're going to be as good as the uncut man next to you. It's depressing to note that all of my relationships have ended with my significant other cheating on me as a direct result of my lack of Foreskin. The lack of confidence by missing this essential piece of my human puzzle extends its ugly influence into every facet of my life, even professionally. I was given the chance to do an amazing presentation for work, but ten minutes before the meeting I had to go pee. I was confident until I saw the thick, uncut gila monster attached to my co-worker Bill in the bathroom. The realization that a pencil-pusher like that is having mind-blowing orgasms I can only ever be told that I won't have filled me with such hatred and self-loathing that I stuttered and stumbled through my speech, my mind constantly fixated on my incomplete package and what a perfect metaphor it is for the rest of my sorry, pitiful existence.

Every time I see a cut dick in porn, I laugh aloud. "What a joke," I think. How can any woman enjoy an incomplete penis? That's like eating only Pizza crust without any toppings, sauce or cheese and insisting it tastes the same - at least, I imagine that's how it is. I've never had a complete penis past just after my birth, so I will sadly, never ever know the joys of complete, full orgasms, satisfying my partner with my complete penis, or having my masculinity unaffected by the quality of my member.