This is bad

It's gone. It's dead. That bit of me that makes me me. It's not there anymore, it never came back. I still love football, I still have my humour, I still love playing football. But that bit, the bit that makes me naively innocent and believe I can do and accomplish anything. It's gone. The bit that enables me to love, it's dead. Fuck. It ain't coming back either.i no longer believe I can get back to the top. I no longer believe I'll love a girl and she'll make me happy. And now because I don't believe it's possible, it's like my brain has given up on my goal. For fuck sake, everything else is alright. I guess my brain just doesn't ever want to have that exposed naivety that can be so easily exploited. This is all my fault as well. I should've got out of multiple situations the very moment I knew they were going to end badly. Now what? Where do I go from here? I'm now useless to anyone else. Quite ironically, I'm damaged goods. "Natural enthusiasm, you're nothing without it." Shankly wasn't lying. It's everything. This is terrible. I keep thinking one day I'll wake up and that part of me will just be alive again. But it never is. I'm ruined. I knew a while ago this has happened, I just thought maybe time would bring me back. As early as June, once I was fully back to my best, I knew some bit of me was missing. What the fuck do I aim for now? I achieved nearly everything I set out to do and I'm still miserable. If I could just wake up my heart and it's passion, I'd be laughing again. But I can't. It died. I don't dream of anything anymore, I don't become romanticised by the little things in life I used to, I don't get crushes anymore, I don't get pumped up for big games anynore, I don't even have passion for my future career anynore. It's just that ducking element that shapes who I am, that vital piece just isn't there anymore. Despite everything, nothing in my teenage years could kill that, nothing homelessness could dish at me killed that. The door that didn't open didn't kill that. Being ill the first time round nearly killed that. My hopelessness and insecurities couldn't kill that. But one shithouse night did instead. One night finished me off. Despite every diligently fought victory last year, the ecstasy and the relief of retribution, from that moment onwards, I was destined to lose. I could only keep up that intensity for so long before my mind and body crashed. I tried to be as cold and cool as someone like Rhys and I failed, because it isn't me. This is a problem that I do not know how to solve, I do not know if it can even be solved.

Send in the clowns

Right, so now I'm ill again, with the same mystery illness, for the fourth time. I've effectively been sacked by my job, after I resigned. I've managed to fall into another trap, I've managed to make a poor girl fall hopelessly in love with me. I've got no emotion. I've no confidence. I've lost inportant friends. One of my friends is on life support in a coma. So yeah, it's errrr... Not looking great. I've no idea if and when I'll get better. So, I'm another year on, further away from what I planned, and completely and utterly miserable. I don't think I'd be too gutted to not wake up tomorrow. As long as death simply meant death, and that I literally didn't exist anywhere at all, and no concept or consciousness, then I'm sound for all that, because my life a nightmare. So now I've got no health, no job. One of my best mates hates me, my first ex girlfriend is now with my ex best friend who bans her from contacting any of us. The only girl I ever loved is with some geek, and it turns out she didn't love me but simply needed someone to look after her mental health. And Liverpool are shit. And I have some dirty ear infection. I've spent 4 grand to look worse than I did before, and I absolutely hate myself, both in appearance and personality. So yeah, not all that bothered of my body throws in the towel. I could get up, mount some unfounded challenge to rebuild my life, but, I can't, because I actually can't go anywhere because I can't see properly and it fucks up my head. Can't explain why it's so debilitating. But it is. Can't find love coz apparently my subconscious feels the need to protect itself from the humiliation of this year. So yeah, the record books will have me down as only ever loving some girl who hated me, used me, tried to change me, and then humiliated me. Sound. What a result that is. What a roaring success I've been. I used to fight for titles and stuff. Now I am rooted to rock bottom. I've been to the motorway hill to stand and have time to myself and try to work things out, but all the while the racing traffic looks the most appealing fate. The temptation not to stand in the fast lane is a difficult resistance. I don't know if this is some kind of challenge or just pure bad luck, but, fine, you win, I lose. I can't cope. I can't do this illness again. I don't want to do this once a year either for the rest of my life. I'm just gonna live in fear of some mystery illness that completely fucks my life up, destroys me, and I lose my job and social life as a result. Nah. Rather not be here to worry about all that crap. It's not like I've got kids to worry about or leave behind, or a partner. Ok, I've got family but then it was only three years ago I was abandoned by them, so yeah, I'm sure it's recoverable. But I'm done. This is a pointless struggle. If I haven't even got my health then it's out of my hands and I can do nothing. So it'll go one of two ways, I'll get better or I'll end up drinking myself to death, coz that looks like the path I'm on. I wish this was a joke, or attention seeking, but it ain't. I can't cope nor do I wish to watch myself be ravaged and slowly fade to nothing like I did two years ago, and I'm not going to. End of. The control is still mine.

It's dawned on me

I don't ever want another war. I don't ever want to hate myself. I don't ever want to be comparing myself to better yesteryears. I don't ever want to be disappointed with myself again. I don't ever want to make the same mistakes. All I want, is a bit of fun, to not feel too bad about myself. To play a lot of football. To meet a nice girl. To go wild sometimes. To make a little bit of money to build a future. That's all.

I cannot lie, and I cannot pretend

Ok, so I can't ignore what had happened. I've lost a couple of important friends, I have created a new problem for myself regarding my image. I am now not as successful as a year ago, or two years ago. That's the truth. I cannot lie. I am depressed. This is why every day seems so hard. This is why I'm less able, less motivated. I don't want to sit and cry about it. I really don't. But it's so bizarre. Other than people, and how insecure I am about how I look, there's not a lot else to complain about. Every now and then, in isolated moments, I do very well. There's a lot of psychological damage I need to address. I can't lie that my confidence is in tatters. But little things happens to improve that. I won't be young forever and I don't want to waste time. Too much time has been wasted. I still have crazy moments as well. I still have a faint belief in fate, especially after the bizarre coincidences that have taken place recently. It's beautiful that it was last week that football made me feel alive again for the first time in forever. I hadn't played properly in so long, and just like that I was back to my best. That exhilarated me. I've always had football to come rescue me. But last night, I got injured instead. It should not be too long but it shows how fickle everything is right now. It's still strange to me how good it looks from a third person perspective, but for me, this is failure. I am very very lucky to have come out of bad situations before, extremely lucky. I need to work a way out of this one.

The hole keeps getting deeper and deeper to climb out of

Well, this season is shit. There's no other relevant way of defining and summarising it. I haven't the squad I want. My gamble hasn't paid off and instead has managed to worsen things. This is ridiculous. I can't lie and say I'm happy, I'm not. This is a terrible era, but yet I can't, like I could before, know exactly what's making it definitively bad. If anything, I'm fulfilling most things I said I would. I have money, I have a future, I fuck girls, I write stories, i seemingly have everything either in my life or ahead. But it's worth nothing. It's odd, but it all seems so unequivocally pointless and meaningless. I'm older, I'm colder, I'm damaged. It seems like the innocence of the time has dissipated, and instead the darkness of reality has set in. I thought the illness would've hardened me, but it didn't. I remember running like a crazy little kid the day I scored a goal again with tears dry on their own blaring through my earphones. Even when things were dark and I was away from home there was still a naivety in me that believed in miracles. That last day of July 2012 when I managed to get everything done and metaphorically stay up, that was borderline magical, and it set me up for the best year of my life. I'm still so gutted I got ill when I did, I just wanted to hold out til the end of July at least. So now what, now I'm richer than then, more qualified, definitely home at last, live by my own rules, work in sport, and I feel like a failure, and my morale is abysmal. Absolutely abysmal. I think my blistered memories have soured the opportunity for new ones. There's no naivety in me anymore, my immaturity is fading. All I've left is my passion and my dreams. My humour hasn't left me either and that has carried me through. I think this year has shown me elements of myself I didn't think existed, or at least I didn't think would ever surface. I completely transformed. I lost everything that made me myself. I even smoked. And for me, that is horrific. That's one of the maxims I had installed in me, for nothing else as a symbolic reminder of my mum's loss. Breaking a promise, that cut me, I live my life by promises. I can only reiterate that I was backed in to a corner, that I read message after message that there was a campaign against me, but can I justify it to myself enough to forgive myself. Nah, not a chance. I didn't even forgive myself for getting into that situation. Unbelievable to think that a conversation had right at the end of 2013 and how things unfolded in 2014, would then result in a complete opposite in 2015. This isn't what I had planned. I've wasted so much time, and now it seems I'm going to have to waste more. Nothing is coming to save me like before. No luck, no epiphany, no money from nowhere, no incredible girl, no miracle. As much as I'd love to lay flat, breathe out and give up, I cannot. I have to live in the mentality that there is a small grain of hope I can grow. I have to put my all into a plan that has little chance of success. If I don't, then it's going to turn bad, really really bad. I've come too far to simply write myself off now. But, it's going to take time, a lot of time. Years. I think I'm going to have to have my sabbatical at some point, then return only once I'm where I want to be at. What I'm going to do is going to be hard work, stressful, painful, and ultimately will probably fail. Regardless, I have to try.

Take On Me

I feel so scared, so utterly gripped and consumed by terror. The risks im taking here are so drastic it is unreal. I want to come home and resurrect what I had before. I can't believe that This is how everything has turned out. I really wish this didn't have to happen, but easter saturday showed exactly how vulnerable I could become, and I can never allow someone to ever again exploit my insecurities and as a result gain such control over me that I feel undeserving of any better. I nearly lost everything and it is only through a miracle that I somehow turned it all around. As tough as is like to appear, I know that this is just a representation ive implemented. I'm ok, but I know that the naive soft side of me is still very much intact. I hate the things I've had to do this year. To break promises made to both myself and others disgusts me, I am appalled that I had to turn into the kind of person that girl feared in order to stop her. I never wanted to do that, and I never dreamed circumstances would arise where that would become necessary. I'm almost ready to spark back into life, to become the person I want to be. If anything goes wrong, terribly wrong, then I can only protest that I did what I thought was best. Ironic really, if it did, then despite all my winning, she would win overall, she would get her wish and I'd disappear. There's only be one of us dancing around Chicagos then, and evidently not me. The worst part is I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for easter saturday, it'd all still be a maybe one day. It would be her influencing by setting me on this path, and I wouldn't want her to know that she ultimately was responsible somewhat, that she got her win and she could celebrate. Cocky of me, but I'm certain she won't read this, not only because there's been no views in the last 2 years. I think it's only me that knows this exists. Although this again is assuming, I'm assuming th views it has is me, I'm pretty confident, well, regardless, I'll never know. I've so much passion in me, so much desire, ive so much to write, so much to do, so much potential. I can do this. I have such energy within me, I've got so many plans, I know exactly how I'm going to accomplish anything. I've got a few years in me to live wild and crazy, one day I'll settle down but not until the perfect girl comes along, then it'll be all about supporting someone's else's campaign, hopefully my future son or daughter. When ive completed everything I want, I'll pass on my same passion and drive to their hopes and dreams. To raise a family in Berwick is a dream of mine. A boy named Alex, a girl named Alice or Emily. That's what I picture. But before that ive got stories to produce, scandals to uncover, the age old mystery to solve, football to be won, nights to be had, and adrenaline to fuel me. It's odd that whenever o truly believe my enemy is gone that they resurface. I wonder why it's still so prominent, I think that I just can't grasp how much I lost myself to her, and then can't understand the reasoning why. I think I could've forgiven anything. I don't have any ill feeling towards Jamie, none. It's odd because there was a time I thought I'd never deal with it. I could forgive her for setting that up. What I can never forgive in the callous way she told the broken ne to stick around, then lied, so obviously, and then sucked off the boy who kicked me in the head. That I can never forgive, I could've never done the same, if one of my friends had hit her, they'd find they were the ones at war with me. It's odd, even now I think I would intervene if she was ever in real danger, I couldn't see her get hit, a part of me remember the person she was years ago, and that part of me would never want her to get physically hurt. Wow, that's odd, how can that be when I hate her so much. I spose it's because it was that nearly time, when I nearly won everything. Whistle was as much the best era of my life as it was hers. I hope to exceed that. That and Pennywhistle will rival each other always. The two times I've been genuinely truly happy. But, that person disappeared, like Chris, the change was so drastic that there was nothing left of the person before. Why did it hit me so bad? Because like Chris I invested so much in that person, and in this case it was worse. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that she would try to destroy me like that. All the while I could say nothing, just being able to read from afar, knowing how meticulously she wanted to ruin my life. I did a lot, I really did, I didn't deserve that. I know that if I wasn't this strong now she would still be trying to destroy a weakened Tom, a me that couldn't and wouldn't fight back. I bet she regrets that. I know it's just because of what I know that I am safe. Without that, I expect I wouldn't hear the end of any of this. At least when Leigh left it was over. I got my wish and he was no longer a force in my life, this differs, still here. Last night confirms for me the person I still am, still happy go lucky, still naive enough to believe in miracles, still dreaming the same things I dreamt at 15. It also confirms how ridiculous my life is, just what were the odds on that, just picking up sonething. From the pharmacy became a complete farce, just how did that happen. It's still like a movie, still written. I still want to see liverpool win that title, I still want Gerrard to win it somehow. Do one thing every day that scares you. My chapters, they're going live. I want to test the potential of my pen.

Closing in? Or as far away as ever?

There isn't too much left of this season. One incredibly important day left. One day that's hopefully more important 5 days into August. I should know on the 23rd whether everything will go ahead as planned. A promise is a promise, I intend on fully implementing everything I said I would. Who would've thought that the horrific parts of this season would've influenced all this change. Writing about that night in the hospital 7 and a half years ago reminds me that the worst people in your life can ellicit the best changes. The same thing appears to have happened this year. If anything, I should thank both. Without them I wouldn't be on the path I'm on now. I'd be content with mediocrity. My reinvention is slowly visible, I'm hitting the gym more and more often, working harder. All I have to do is remember why and the motivation is there. That chapter helped so much, I realise now why I couldn't cheat, couldn't reciprocate what was happening to me, couldn't use the worst insults until my family were brough into this. It's because I could never become him, could never use the same methods as what he did to destroy this family, couldn't betray my morals because they are based on what I hated about him. I no longer regret the fact that I didn't get revenge by cheating on her, instead I thrive on that I didn't, thrive even more that she believes I did. It means she'll understand how I felt, to believe that your whole world was a lie. Her's wasn't, but the throwbacks and other hints create an illusion of a different Tom. Pretty stupid to believe it if I'm honest, just when would I have had time to cheat, she was Velcro. Still, the fact remains that she must sit and comprehend that it was all a joke on her, that I was laughing the whole time. The opposite is true and the joke was on me, but she'll be devastated thinking that she wasted her time and her feelings. I know that because it's exactly how I felt and the odds are a thousand to one that she'd ever come across this page again. Nobody's memory is like mine, I doubt she remembers this even exists, it's not exactly updated regularly. As mentioned before, there is not long of the season left, and as of August, I hope I have done enough to facilitate progress, and then it's out of my hands, just as it always was going to be. The people around me are amazing and I have more of them than I have had for years, old faces have resurfaced this year, as well as new ones within the last few months. This is it, the battle back to the top has either reached a crucial pivotal moment, or horrid and despairing anti-climax will occur. Right now, I can change nothing. I must wait.