Thinking of not renewing my transness subscription

Lately, between arguments, fights and late-night existential crisis, anxiety because of exams and family, i guess everything just got me to a breaking point. There's too many things going on and my brain is thoroughly fried. I dont have the mental capacity to follow all the bullshit, understand stupid fancy words and try to make myself check boxes off a thousand different lists. I have my own stupid fancy words to understand already, for uni.

I'm pondering if I should just give up.

Since i was little, I’ve always thought that gender is stupid. « Gender » boils down to presentation and acting. It’s literally bullshit. It’s not "identity", or at least it’s not any more "identity" than being emo or punk is.
What I want is for my body to get fixed. I don't care about "gender". Fuck performances. I want to be able to express myself, not perform. If i wanted to perform, I'd perform – I have passable acting skills anyway. Since my 'true colors' align roughly with what's considered feminine expression, I thought I could just get my body fixed and ignore gender. Like yeah, I'm a "girl", in the sense that's the best term to describe things in a simple and not-neurotic way.

But apparently now I have to check a ton of boxes. Fit into definitions. Learn useless lingo as if i didn't have already a ton of shit to learn for my linguistics studies. Hey look, there's this, and that, and that, and if you dont fit inside this box we've made up then fuck you, darling.

WELL, CHECK THIS OUT, WORLD: I DONT FIT ANYWHERE.

So if things are like this, with boxes and boxes and boxes, then fuck it, guess I could just give up. Not transition. Swallow the pain of having to deal with this body; even though that means keeping on living on wearing sweaters and long trousers even with 40 °C outside; limit social contacts to minimize problems and anxiety; deal with the social consequences of being a male who looks too much like a woman and sounds like one, someone who doesn't make the slightest sense to be a male; fundamentally bury myself in a fucking hole and spend the rest of my stupid fake life just the same as my teens: a constant awful dusk that got me on the verge of fucking killing myself multiple times.

Who needs dreams, hopes and happiness when you can just rot in a room as your fucked-up body gets thinner and thinner and despair eats you from the inside?

At least crows at the window keep company, and in the woods, laying down staring up at the sky, as branches wave in the wind and the smell of soil and moss pervades everything, there's nothing but beauty.