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.