I am super tired

This picture may seem fairly obvious, perhaps even redundant, but I’ve hit a bit of a low that I haven’t in a while and have to get it out.
Lately it’s hit me that those I call friends barely know me at all. They’ve noticed my difference in appearance, difference in dress, hairstyle, mannerism, but in no way shape or form recognize it as me being me.
I’ve explained that who I’ve always been is finally becoming or will be coming more physically apparent (aka. becoming the man I seen inside me) but they fail to grasp the concept itself or concern of coming to those terms with me.
I will admit it’s difficult to comprehend- the person you saw yesterday as a woman suddenly coming clean they’ve always felt male and will steadily appear more to them a man- but let’s get real folks. I’m still me.
I feel as though those around me consciously take advantage of my overwhelming need to be polite and not disturb the ruckus, therefore, don’t question which pronouns I may or may not be comfortable with.
They feel that years of knowing me as female validate them to continue to use female pronouns and terms- isn’t this not actually knowing me, then?
Fine. I know. It’s uncomfortable to switch. It’s difficult to get around the slippery words that play hide and seek around your tongue. Think about how I must feel. Years and years of knowing myself as Daniel, making you aware I am Daniel, and you keep calling me Danielle. Sucks a lot.
Tonight I felt that rare twinge of reality actually accepting me as Daniel. I drove through town doused by a torrential rain, just myself, knowing myself, feeling myself as male until I stopped to get a bite to eat.
The girl behind the counter hadn’t recognized me as any gender when I pulled up, even when actually seeing me. Within a matter of seconds, however, (unbeknownst  to her) she completely shattered my perception when asking “It’ll take 3 minutes, ma’am. Is that ok?”
I had every bit of manly demeanor radiating fully from my being just for this one moment (my voice even exceeded my expectation) but I suppose it wasn’t strongly emiting enough.
It just gets really difficult to take day in day out knowing you are the only person in the world that believes you are what you are. Sure, you’ve got a few friends on the side who aren’t sharing your company for the novelty of being ‘the man with no penis’ but when it comes to your parents, childhood friends and family, school friends, and work friends completely disregarding the person you’ve seen inside as long as you have, the people you expected to have completely combed you of knowledge of yourself ages ago, it’s quite frankly, lonely.
The only comfort I had was knowing my hormones were giving me the biggest kick in the ass to get the hell out of dodge and leave the town. I couldn’t do it though. I’d found a road a day ago I’d not yet traveled within the vicinity of where I was living and wanted badly to tear hell down it, never look back and yet, tonight I could not bring myself to venture past my own block.

I just ended up making myself sick on disappointment and greasy fries; writing this whiny monolog in a hope it’d quell my sense of flights’ insatiable appetite.

To no avail, I’m afraid, to no avail.