you know what I’m afraid of?
I know one day, I’m just going to be walking along, and all the sudden…
my dick’s going to fall off from disuse.  [drop]
And I’m not going to even notice.  I probably won’t even recognize it, if I do see it.
“Oh look, someone’s left a penis here, pretty good condition, hardly used, pity.”
And then I’ll get home and be like [padding around body] “oh shit.  now where did I put that last…  No, that was months ago…”  [looking back]  “could it?”  [picks it up, dusts it off, looks at it, then crotch, attaches].  “nice.  Well, I’m never going to lose you again…  Next chance I get, we’re putting you to use.”  [walks two feet, falls again]
See the problem is, I’ve got a penis.  Not a bad one either.  But without testicles, it’s nothing more than a necktie for my groin.
Like high school, this was me with my similarly self-castrated friend:
T:  So are you going to talk to her?
B:  Of course not.  You?
T:  Not likely.
B:  Did you remember your testicles this morning?
T:  Left them at home.  You?
B:  In the shop.
I’m not an alcoholic
            anymore
No, never, in fact, I think about my father 10 times a day now
I asked my psychiatrist if that was normal.  And her thing is always:
“Your perfectly normal, many young men go through this…  Even at your age.  It’ll change once you’ve finished puberty.”
No, of course she doesn’t say that.  But she is into saying I’m “normal” my problems are “normal.”  And I’ll admit it, the problems not the problems themselves but the problem solving that never solves anything and all you’re left with is a lot of long division.
“Normal very normal.”
I like how she says too because she’s british.
Anyway, I asked her is thinking about once’s father, or more specifically, fearing to become one’s father 10 times a day normal?
“Ah, no, that’s actually quite abnormal.”
This of course sent me on a whole spin-cycle of neurotic reflexion.