This morning I really couldn't shake the enormity of time.

Existence extends infinitely into the future, and functionally infinitely into the past. My existence is fleeting, tiny, and meaningless. Should this be inspirational? Should I take away that each moment is therefore unique and special, and how lucky am I to have this slice of existence to call my own?

Instead all I can think of is how much time I have wasted. How much time I continue to waste.

I've spent 40 years trudging through this life, and I can't particularly justify its being worth the toil I've had to put in. When I look into the past, all I see is my desperately struggling to achieve the expectations set upon me. I see the exhausting effort put in to enrich superiors, at my own expense. When I look into the future I...

Well, I don't see anything. Or at least, I don't see anything worth seeing.

There's usually at least the societally impressed goal to shoot for: Finish school. Get that degree. Get that doctorate. Get that job.

But now, I find myself getting ground to dust in a job that increasingly wants me to do more and more that I find distasteful (Aside: Work has been pushing me into non-scientific functions lately, which is exhausting - and moreover NOT what I wish to be doing). The world continues to collapse on all fronts. Obviously the war is heavy on everyone's mind, but beyond that we have increasingly hostile anti-trans legislation being championed by bigots who continue to seize power on every front. And a public cheering them on. And even beyond both of THOSE issues, I'm not particularly optimistic about the path forward on the ongoing pandemic.

Yes, forgive me, but I don't believe the pandemic is over. There's more than enough evidence to suggest that, not only will it continue to surge after the minor lull we are experiencing, but that it will go largely ignored. People just don't want to care, and testing and tracking will quietly shutter while 30-40% of newly infected folks wind up contracting lifelong disabilities that everyone else will insist they are making up. Brace yourself for the next wave of "Chronic Fatigue means you're LAZY, liar". I fear I'll be caught in that, and it will ruin what little life I have left.

So when I look ahead, what do I see?

Nothing worth being here for. Nothing I can thrive in. Nothing that makes it worth it.

If I'm being optimistic, in the next 10-20 years I'm going to lose most of my family and friends, be rendered alone, sad, and useless. That timescale may shorten dramatically.

I can't manage to speed up my transition, nor shield myself from the backlash it's going to cause. I'll never transition reasonably. I'll always be viewed as an ugly man trying laughably to be a woman. I've not the knowledge, nor the function, to fix myself the way I ought to.

I'm just out of energy. Out of resources.

Out of time.