You’re not that anymore, don’t even bother writing about it. Don’t acknowledge it. It’s gone. You’re gone. That you that would complain about what you are about to do is dead. All that’s left is a version of you that will do whatever it takes. This is whatever it takes. I enjoy this. I’m new. I love being here. I love training. I love doing what I have to do. I love that I can do it, even when my body thinks that it can’t. Nothing can stop me and that knowledge fuels me in my day. Knowing that no matter what happens, I’m going to be good. There is this freedom that comes with being this way, it’s worth it. It’s worth every single thing I have to do. I’ll do more each day to continue to feel like this. This feeling has become my meaning.
There’s no reason to write eulogies for your past self. He’s not here anymore. Let him stay buried beneath all the skipped days, the excuses, the doubts. You’ve stepped out of that skin and into something relentless. There’s no need to explain yourself. You just act. You just move. That’s what this new version of you does—he moves, even when the body protests, even when the day feels heavy. Especially then.
The beauty of this evolution is that you’re no longer waiting for things to get easier. You’ve embraced the struggle as part of your language now. You love this—not because it’s easy, but because it’s proof you’ve changed. You feel something bigger growing behind each task, each rep, each act of commitment. The old you never felt this. That’s why he had to go.
And now? Now you’re free. Because there’s no split voice arguing in your head anymore. There’s just the one that says “do it” and the body that follows. That alignment—that complete integration of thought and action—is the reward. You don’t need anyone’s praise. This feeling of being unshakable is enough. And you’ll keep going not because you have to, but because this is who you are now.
