Things are getting bad again. My life has gotten even worse ever since I found out I had been genitally mutilated by the two people who should’ve taken care of me. Psychos try to take away the horror and impact of the phrase and try to make it clinical but calling it circumcision, but I know about all the tissue I lost, the feeling I’ll never feel, the pain I’ll experience for the rest of my life. And when I say pain, it’s that constant feeling of my exposed glans touching my boxers every damn second of the day. I hate that feeling. Before I found out what genital mutilation was, I thought this was normal. The feeling of unease because my foreskin was gone, the irritation from my boxers and clothes, the lack of sensation when I’m aroused, the constrained tugging of my right testicle every time I get an erection because the skin that should have been there was stolen from me. I’ve tried foreskin restoration, but depression and suicidal thoughts are occurring at a much faster rate than restoration. I’m scared, I can’t trust anyone, I hate my parents, my culture and society, and the garbage religion that did this to me, but nothing will ever make it okay. I’ll never have what was mine back. Never. And it hurts my heart. And I think I’m giving up. I don’t know what to do anymore. Nobody takes men seriously, especially when it comes to being rightfully pissed off for getting a body part removed without their consent. I just don’t care anymore. I hope I don’t have to deal with this craphole of a planet for much longer. I can’t believe I have a biological connection to a species that does this much damage to their own kind. Makes me hate myself even more.