I'm in a bout of fairly serious depression. It's all so overwhelming and I feel as if I will never be more then I am now. I suppose that is a redundant statment. But what I mean is that I dont feel as if I will ever be able to fully transition. With all the money required for electrolysis and various surgeries. The problem I believe is that this links like a hand in a glove with my depression. I dont put forth effort in to this because it is for me. I am unable to provide for myself the same sort of security I long to instill in those whom I love.

I ramble. I'm sorry. The redefinition of gender confusion is that there is no confusion at all. It's a matter of will, drive and ambition. And while I may be willfull I dont have the drive to put it into action and my ambitions are more like castles in the sky then anything with any real foundation. I'm having a hard time with life and living. It's become a moment when i'm tired and i hurt in a way that words can't seem to describe. This isn't an outreach and this isn't a threat of an attempt on my life. Suicide isn't really about garnering sympathy or love. It isn't about wondering how others will feel when your gone or who will go to yoru funeral. It's a desire to make the hurt stop when nothing else will. It's not even giving up on yourself, which no one will believe. So this, that I am writing, is an attempt to simply lance through the pain, to give it some sort of outlet. In a vain hope of stemming it, so that it can be bearable.

Everything else in life has paled in comparison to this pain. I can understand right now why others would go and do things to themselves, or attempt feats of maddness, just in an attempt to feel something else. This "gender confusion"...or perhaps a better term would be "gender helplessness"...it's overpowering and all encompassing. It reaches into every aspect of my life making each step one of building agony. Each one a symbol of the rejection I fear and feel, imagined and acctual. Each one proof that I do indeed lack worth and that what I am is what I deserve and my life has simply been a punishment for it.

So right now I hold on to a vain hope that tomorrow will be better. Maybe I'll catch a random whiff of honeysuckle. Maybe I'll find some validation I didn't expect. Or perhaps I've just trained myself that in these moods and places it is simply better to sleep then to contemplate other actions. Tomorrow, after all, is indeed another day.