I held my soul so gentle and my love so pure in such high regard despite proof and proof again that I could only trust them to fail me, and yet, I was born with this massive, gnarly cock, thick with pulsating veins, drooling precum as soon as I get erect and generally looking like something out of hentai drawings. Why did I never value this part of me? Like my brain and my heart, my cock is also my appendage, except through these long years it never failed me. Did God try to tell me something when he gave me this violent looking cock? One time I fucked a girl on her period and when I pulled my dick covered in blood out of her I just realized how brutal of a cock it is. The image of it, like an Asura's cudgel, slathered in crimson is etched in my personal book of legends. If you have seen the meme with the roided arm on the steering wheel, that's what my cock looks like. And I don't mean what that man's cock you imagine would look like, it looks like the actual fucking arm. But the rest of me is just a regular wuss, and my heart is definitely the heart of a wuss. I always knew that, and yet I went on, relying on my wussy parts, failing like a wuss. But I never rejected those parts, and I never praised my cock, who worked so hard for me every time I called it to its duty. I feel like I might have wasted my life's potential. I could've fucked a lot more than I managed to, but I thought women would love me for my brain and for my heart. I could've definitely been loved for my cock. I'm sure that was the only reason they stuck around. And today I wonder if this ogrish cock of mine might've been the walking stick I needed to propel myself upward the mountain of life. As of today, I can say this asset of mine was wasted. I'm sorry, my Lovecraftian appendage. I'm truly sorry.