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.