More Sleep Deprivation

I'm not naive. It is not like I was expecting transition or surgery to fix my mind. I expected it to help my quality of life, and my daily depression. If nothing else I expected it to make things a bit easier, and less severe. By and large, that has been true. Yet even know I still, continuously, struggle over and over and exhaustingly over again with the same depression. Where before it was over being trans, now it's over the hollow and purposeless life feels. I fill it with stuff. I go to work, I tune out of my life for a few hours, I come home and repeat. Never at one point is my life engaging or enthralling in a new and fantastic way. I've not been challenged or entertained in years. I've been, at best, delayed and entertained. Any would be challenges are entirely arbitrary constructs from myself, or others. Climb a mountain? Sure but why? I don't need to, there's no purpose in it outside the idea of doing it. Why then should I bother?

The most, irritating, aspect of all this is that it never, ever, stops. The depression comes over and over and over again like bad inlaws that overstay their welcome and visit uninvited and oft-too often. I transitioned, moved, fell in/out of love, became polyamorous, tried S/M, and tried other BD aspects, group sex, marijuana, I tried having multiple partners at once. I tried monogamous relationships, I tried therapy (and still go), I tried different hobbies and environments, I tried vitamins and acceptance. Nothing alleviates, or dissuades the epic de-saturation of my life and my world.  Vibrant colors leave in great haste towards tepid levels of varying gray and any one purpose or enjoyment I saw in anything, leaves swiftly with it. Then, like the regular annoying ticking of your grand mothers clock, the suicidal thoughts, hopelessness, and helpless feelings come in, and my nervous/muscular twitches start as my mind starts to turn against me. The little voice becomes louder until it is the only thing i hear.

All of this, again, and again, and again again again. Then I sleep, wake up, and wonder if today's the lucky day I get hit by a bus and don't have to worry about it anymore.

I grow exhausted with this. The endless crying leading to tired mornings with swollen eyes. The endless despair and suicidal thou