"I Bet I can Jump that Ledge," and Other Famous Last Words.

There's just no way to decide, there's not a lot of choices. You're the only one keeping me alive, there's not a lot of choices...

If exasperation could be distilled to an essence, bottled to a potent scent, left to ferment and ripen, my life would be a manufacturer of the final product. It is twenty minutes past midnight and I have just slept for three hours. Still dreaming about her, goddamnit. Still held to ransom by her memory, her scent, her voice that kept my head above the water all those dark months when my life hung by one tiny thread. I clung to her like a scared child to its mother. I gathered the last of my strength and proceeded to kill our relationship instead of myself. I doubt I have ever made a bigger mistake in my entire life. I find it hard to believe that I will ever make one larger in the rest of it. I am the Man Who Sold The World. There was no profit to be made.

This many months down the track (could time have moved this quickly?) the prevailing sentiment about our demise is a hollow sadness. She is faded from my view; obscured and smudged, though so very much a tangible part of me. Often I wonder whether she really existed; whether I really was fortunate enough to have had her in my life those almost three years. Was it really me who held that perfection in my arms through sweltering summer nights and blisteringly cold winter ones? Was it me who elicited those heart-melting giggles from deep inside her? Me who gathered her near to me and marvelled that I could ever come so close to perfection and not be immediately rebuffed? I never deserved her and she instinctively knew it. I was the almost-man. I was the not-quite-worth-the-trouble period in her life. I was the coulda-shoulda-woulda. I loved her like no one ever will. And I hurt her like no one ever should. For this - and the many other things I did wrong - I apologise profusely. I guess I am no different to many people who, when faced with something almost too good to be true, undermine the thing subconsciously just to prove their weak and stupid minds right.

I will never be a fan of mine, and nor I suspect, will you. Please forgive me one day...

I have been building up to this post for a long time. This is the first time I have been able to face this issue head on and maintain my composure. I still feel this loss in my life in a major way. In many respects, it is the worst loss I have ever had to deal with, and I haven't dealt with it in any admirable sense. Go figure. I am notorious for this. But these last few days have steeled me enough to write this and not sink into a quagmire of regret and tears because of it. Don't get me wrong, I am extremely sad still, but I am facing the feelings head on. I am placing a stake in the ground here and now. I am in control of myself, not my sickness. At least I try to think so.

Tough words from a weak man. The gods chuckle into their beards.

This apology will probably never be read by the right eyes, so let us move on. Let's take a journey down more productive avenues. Let's pretend we're important to the lives of others. Let's try to decide who we most wish to impress in all the world. For you, you fleet-of-foot fairies? Who is it? Parents, friends, partners, colleagues, bosses, agents, the public? And me? Well... maybe it is you, Freckle. Maybe it is no one. An epiphany. If it is no one, but I mentioned you, then we can all connect the dots. Please take this as a compliment rather than a burden. I seek affirmation only from those I admire most. I'm your biggest fan.

Dehydration! They say by the time you feel thirsty you are already headed down the path of water-deprivation. I remember the days of urine inspection before games to make sure we were sufficiently "clear" to play. I remember "The Piss Chart". Imagine, if you will, the litany of jokes this spawned. A serious business, to be sure, but a damn funny one when someone asks you in the changing sheds, "Is your piss clear enough? You know I can't let you walk out that door if it's yellow." Oh, to be an athlete again. To be in a world where the colour of your urine is a daily concern. If I am to be honest with you all, I still concern myself with this despite my absence from the game for two seasons. I have always been a water-drinker. I wasn't always an "inspector" however. But I can see the funny side. It's not as gross as you all think, you sensitive souls. Have a sense of humour.

Why is toilet humour such an all time classic?