It's finally relevant

Song of the month, June 2006, finally relevant, terribly, horribly, unexpectedly, hurtfully, dangerously, undeniably, relevant.

Rebuild

I've been sent back to 2012 levels, 2012 levels of confidence, of performances, of value, of shame, of humiliation. I thought I'd worked hard enough to ensure that such a dark depression could never resurface. I was wrong. I must rebuild myself, but this time 10 times better, stronger, faster. I need to be more intuitive, more dynamic, braver, harder, colder. Colder, that's what will save me. I'm going to follow through with the original plan. The master plan, the plan to achieve everything. I'm going to keep the November 12th promise, I live by that promise. I'm going to rise up from the ashes of defeat and emerge a better me than ever before. I know talk is cheap, and where I am right now represents the pillars of sand I managed to build. They fell, easily, in one night. "Use your body, in every way that you can, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own." My body, my face, everything, it just change. Once I've done this I'll be able to get back to the top, and I'll make sure that I'm never torn down so easily again. Look at this Tom. Look at this every time you have second thoughts, every time you want to give up, every time you think you've made it without executing this plan. You must know that is temporary, this plan is the only real way to win. I'm talking to myself, my past to my future. Remember me, remember this Tom and the pain and humiliation I felt. Remember me. Replay that night and the two that followed, and remember the pain. I trust myself which means I trust you, my future self. Go out and do what was always promised, please do not give up. Please do not stop. I am more powerful than I realise and you must remember this. Read this when you've accomplished the plan, and cheer, go out into Berwick and celebrate like Gerrard does, use that allegory, win that title. I know you can achieve this, so do it, remember, the fear of failure is illogical. It seems strange writing to myself, but I know it's the only way you'll remember. Remember this Tom, make me the last to suffer the issues that hold me back. Please don't fail me. I know you can win.

Maybe I am from the future after all

I'll never be able to encapsulate how I feel write now, no words I could ever amass from deep thinking or journalistic skill could accurately convey the horror I feel right now. It's a new pain I've become all too familiar with, although this time it's at its zenith, and I wish I could flick it's switch and turn it off as quickly as it was activated. The worst thing is the allegory for it that I played out, the worst thing is I was right, the worst thing is all of it. I can change nothing. I'm broken, the inner emotional workings have ceased, they have become overwhelmed and don't allow me to feel emotion, only broken, only empty. She was everything, a folly I implemented, a disaster I planned with meticulous strategy. I hate her, I hate the subtle way she began to define the importance in my life, I hate that her lies became my dreams. I hate that my humiliation was compounded by her, the one single entity that could undo all that is wrong, yet caught in the paradox that it was her creation. I don't hope he's worth it, I hope he fails, and that his failures lead her to destruction, that maybe he might represent such besotted importance to her that his betrayal could replicate my pain. It's untouchable this pain, it's somewhere in the stomach but everywhere at once as well. She has infiltrated my empire and tried to bring its biggest admirer to his knees. But I won't kneel, and I wouldn't let her escape unpunished. Her fears exposed and taunted, I have torn down the clothes pegs that held her worries, horrors and concerns high above in the sky, I have unclipped them and bought them down to earth, down to reality. Does she hurt half as much? Not half a chance.

I replay the narrative in my head, I show up with my only motive to rescue her, and she just blanks my request for her to leave. The boy I'm past kid about escorts us out and tries to smooth talk me, my eyes are swelling with anger and disappointment, the look of a loose cannon is etched across me, they can see it. She jokes that it's all a laugh, the drugs, the getting off, and it's all a lie, even the source of the drugs is a lie. I know it's him, no random guy gives out drugs, no-one sells drugs in clubs outside London. My dejection turns to humiliation and I see her skip back inside with them, her voice is fresh and full. I come back to attempt the rescue again, this time she's colder, she tells me no, she tell the bouncer I'm the jealous ex. I ring her parents and after my mates successfully talk the two boys into honest fear, I leave her to deal with the remnants of her mistakes. There's more to come, she still attempts to see the boys, that boy, the dangerous one. I jog a mile in the Arctic breeze to secure money to save her, all the while she's kissing him, dreaming of bedding him, I'm unaware but oh so sure. Then at mine the lies continue, and she bed hoow back to me to continue the fascade and leave me imprisoned in a web of lies, a web that's untangaling and is made more obvious by her accidental hints and mistakes. Her phone, it reveals not paranoia because you're not paranoid if you're right. She's trying to leave me, she's been kissing him, she has feelings for him, she doesn't want to be back with me. She still lies, and my head goes, and I cast her out, permanently. All the while she lies until the cover of a phone call gives her the confidence, and the cheek of her, she didnt want to hurt me. Still the prospect lies of our nothingness relationship, one that permits and encourages affairs and justifies them, how convinient. One day we can return, but not until feelings fade, if they ever fade. And I am left with nothing, just a chance at nothing and a bag full of hurt feelings and future suspicions. Why should I allow her the chance to destroy me again, she's strong now but I know she could be weak again, then she'd want me, but i don't want to be a medicine, a tool used for retaining her self preservation, something that keeps her calm and safe, I want more than that. I bet he laughs and laughs and laughs, he not only got the girl, but convinced the girl to laugh and laugh laugh at me. Promises are cast aside when fleeting feelings come into play, and he knows she wants him, and she knows she wants him, and I know she doesn't want me because he's fresh and exciting and new. But I am not finished, I have flaws and imperfections, but I have plans, plans from long ago that have resurfaced and rooted themselves in my ambition. I can be ten times better, ten times stronger, ten times quicker. It's hard but possible, and it's only gets closer and closer the more the situation deteriorates. How will she be remembered when the time has passed and her legacy in my existence is up for review. The girl who brought me back to the top? Or the girl who made the ultimate betrayal? The girl who hurt me more than anyone else? I want this kid to hurt, or do I? Should I not let this thing have her, it can't last, it won't last. Should I move on and find something different, someone safe, someone I know can fill the fresh made hole in my emotion yet safe enough to know they won't vacate it. How can you hate a man who is willing to take an unfaithful girl, shouldn't you pity him. He's aware, he knows, but then it dawns on me, he doesn't want her like I want her, she's an easy shag he thinks but he won't get that. All the while this happens I could be off into a new chapter and creating better times for me to savour. I know it's unrealistic, but I know also that after two ops, a gym and a lot of money that I will be invincible. I have the potential, I should fufil it and let her suffer for her errors. This night is impossible to forget so why start trying, instead remember the hurt and the pain and how you can't ever let that happen again. Deconstruct. Take away emotion from sex, have fun. Jump from girl to girl even if the standards drop, one good'un will come along for keeps, but don't ever let her close enough to destroy you like that, keep enough distance to full cement your position. It hurts right now but it will get better, I will get better, and then the last laugh will be with me. No player is bigger than the club.

Soon, that's when

I'm alive again, I have been since November 2013, over a few days I just woke up and felt better and then a little bit more better and then that was it, alive again. It took me 'til January to return to normal, things were more psychologically more demanding that I had anticipated, then I scored that first goal, and it hit me, I'm alive, I really am. I dipped for a week in March and a few in September/October. What is my health problem? I don't know? Psychological after all that? I'd take that. Gerrard was still my metaphor, didn't he burst into life again. Now he's leaving, I hope he's not  still my metaphor. My goals have changed, or rather they have regressed. I'm selfishly seeking more, I want to be back at the top. I have good people around me, a good group that still retains the spine of my old one.

Convalescence?

I've improved, that's for sure, and my family don't show any signs of illness like I do, despite repeating what I did with the poison. This leaves me wondering if it's only affected me, or if there's something else wrong with me, I'm at a crossroads, but the path I'll take is not my decision. I refuse to believe my history has been erased in one day, ten minutes no less. Why did I come back from the brink? Just to fall back again, to fall further, and now it seems it is impossible for me to return, to get back up, to fulfil my promise. My dreams of changed, I simply dream of playing football again, of being able to go out normally, things that were a given. I'm stuck, very very stuck, I don't understand what's wrong with me, and therefore I can do nothing about it. Even if I knew, could I do anything about it? They're not ill and I am, and that makes no sense. My past is staring at me and asking, "when?"

The End

I'm done, I've given up, I don't want to be here anymore, not now, not when I can't function properly anymore, I'd rather be a memory, a memory of a better me, if I can't be me, than I'd rather not be here at all. I will look for my best option and then jump ship.

It's over, my hopes ended, for ever.

The 12th July marks the end. I believe I was poisoned, I inhaled some pesticide I had placed down in the garden, not a substantial amount, but that's when it started. I felt numb soon afterward, and dizzy, and the world just looked different. I still feel the same now, although the 2 days after the exposure I was fine for small periods. But now I am permanently damaged, I know this because it has been 35 days since this ordeal began, and I show no signs of recovery. Of course I don't, because I know I never will, it's permanent, it's damage from a neurotoxin. My mum recreated the same scene, inhaled a similar amount, twice no less, yet shows no symptoms. I have no idea why. Because of all this I am writing today to declare my life over, and to effectively retire from all the things I was doing and had planned, because I can no longer do them. The world has become a difficult place to navigate, and I struggle to do even the simplest things. I have given up hope of recovery, which is gut wrenching, because I know if I had not been ill I would've accomplished all the things I had planned, I was on top of the world. Was. Now my life has been stolen by a chemical called deltamethrin, a chemical that I advise no-one ever comes into contact with. I wish I could cope, and re-launch my life, but I just can't.