When I was at Stuttgart, I was told than one day I’ll have a beautiful love story with a club. When I signed for Real Madrid, I thought I reached the top of the world. Then, all of a sudden, something went wrong. The Madrid fan whistled me even when I played well, they didn’t respect the work I did. I played well, seriously, but someone higher up wanted me gone. When Juve contacted me I accepted immediately even though there were other clubs interested in me according to my agent. Juve showed me what it’s like to be a footballer. Thanks to Allegri I returned to my levels in many simple ways, and the public, unlike those in Madrid, are educated and I appreciate this. Today, when I speak with my German friends and they ask me about the peak of my career, I show them the Juve shirt. This is the team I chose as my love story, the best team I know, the team that wins with class… That is Juventus.
My eyes are red and puffy and I’ve cried so much that the tears are starting to sting my cheeks and even when I wipe them away there’s still more, they don’t end. I’m curled up and my chest is constricting and my body is shaking and my hands are turning white at the knuckles, trying to get a grip but I’m slipping and there’s nothing to stop me. This is a different kind of fall, one that’s not physical. It’s the kind of fall where your mind loses itself and your heart feels like it’s shattered and everything is slipping from your control. And nothing’s okay anymore, and when everything crashes down from the cliff that you’ve been thrown from, all you see is the chaos, the shattered remnants of who you used to be. And who you are now is nothing but a broken version, with missing parts and too many problems to ever be okay again.