[Now this is how my life starts changing... working out, having a good meal, and managing time. I really aced all of that like some kind of a main character.]
The first morning of his transition was terrible.
Logan set his alarm for five in the morning, which was a time he had never seen deliberately before, and got out of bed when it went off. His body felt like it was made of concrete.
His room was dark and cold, and every part of his body urged him to go back to sleep, abandon this foolish idea, and accept that some people are just meant to lose. Yet, he continued to push himself until he had put on some old sneakers and gone for a run.
He had gone half a mile when his lungs started to hurt. Three-quarters of a mile later, his legs were shaking.
He stopped at the one-mile mark, bent over with his hands on his knees, and threw up on the sidewalk as the sun rose over the neighborhood that had seen him fail for eighteen years. After finishing his first run, he walked home, went straight to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror while soaked in sweat with a red face and a sad expression.
Then he set an alarm for the next morning and made up his mind to do it again.
It was worse on day two. He had sore muscles in places he didn't know he had them.
It felt like walking on broken glass with every step. He had gone a mile and a quarter when he had to stop, and this time he didn't throw up, which felt like a win.
He ran a mile and a half on the third day. Two miles on the seventh day. On the fourteenth day, he ran three miles without stopping and learned something that changed everything.
His body could do more than his mind thought it could. Running was the base, but Logan knew he needed more than just cardio.
He had put up a bar in his doorframe and started doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups. At first, he couldn't do ten pushups without his arms giving out, but then he could do fifty by the third week and even a hundred by week six.
He had taken a set of rusty old dumbbells from a neighbor's garage sale. They looked like they had been sitting in someone's basement since the 1980s.
He didn't know how to do the exercises correctly or what to do, so he spent hours watching MyTube videos and copying the moves until his arms hurt and his shoulders hurt.
[See how I did that shit?! That's discipline right there, and I didn't do any bullshit like do it for only two or three days and then go back to my usual self!]
Food was no longer a comfort but a source of energy. No more running to get fast food or eating snacks in front of the TV.
He learned how to cook simple meals like chicken and rice, vegetables he'd never tried before, and protein shakes that tasted awful but worked. He counted calories not to lose weight but to gain muscle and change his body from something soft and forgettable into something that needed attention.
He didn't expect the changes in his body to happen so quickly. His clothes fit differently after two months. His shoulders got wider, his arms got more defined, and his stomach got flatter and then carved into something that looked almost planned.
He had to get new shirts because the ones he had were too big for him. But the changes in his mind took longer and hurt more.
Logan would lie in bed at night and feel like every failure was a heavy thing on his chest. He remembered every time someone had laughed at him, every time someone had ignored him, and every time he had felt like he didn't deserve to be in the world.
Even though he could run five miles now, those memories didn't go away. They were like scars on him, and some nights they hurt so much he wanted to give up.
[And that is why he didn't give up... I will always remember those assholes insults, and one day I will get back at them if one day we meet again.]
He began to work on things that were more important than muscle. First came posture, where he had been bent over for so long, trying to make himself smaller, that standing up straight felt strange.
He practiced in front of the mirror by rolling his shoulders back, lifting his chin, and taking up space like he owned it. At first, it felt like he was lying, like he was acting like someone he wasn't. But he did it anyway, every day, until it didn't feel like he was pretending anymore.
Next, he wanted to look each other in the eye. Logan had always looked down at the ground, at his shoes, at his hands, or anywhere else but directly at the person who was talking to him.
Now, he forced himself to make eye contact with people when they spoke. It felt like looking into the sun the first few times.
His gut told him to look away and become small and unnoticeable again. He didn't pay attention. He kept his eyes level and steady until it felt normal, until he could look at someone without blinking.
He paid attention to how people who were sure of themselves talked and moved. Not the loud, annoying people who needed attention to feel alive, but the quiet ones who could take over a room without even trying.
They didn't move around. They didn't talk nervously to fill the silence.
They waited, picked their words carefully, and let other people come to them. Logan practiced this by himself in his room until he could sit in complete silence without having to break it.
[Yeah... now you see why I start to have my own narcissistic personality, but trust me! I won't be that annoying! I'm just enjoying the result of my hard work!]
The hardest part was changing the way his brain worked. A voice in his head told him that it didn't matter every time he looked in the mirror and saw someone stronger, fitter, and more capable.
He felt that he was still the same loser on the inside. That one day, everyone would see through the illusion and remember who he really was. Almost every fucking day, Logan fought that voice.
[Whoa... I didn't know the narration could swear like that. Calm down, jeez...]
He made lists of things he had done, little wins that no one else would care about but that were important to him. Today, he ran six miles.
He did 200 push-ups. He talked to a cashier without stuttering.
He looked at himself in the mirror and didn't turn away in disgust right away. Over the course of weeks and months, these small victories added up until they became something bigger, a solid base he could stand on.
Almost two years into his change, Logan noticed that he hadn't checked social media in a while. He didn't care what his old classmates were up to or how they were doing.
He didn't need to compare himself to people who had never cared about him in the first place. He had only one goal in life, and that was to be better than he was the day before.
He didn't know who he was looking at in the mirror anymore after two years. That was the point and his own goal of discipline.
His body now was lean and strong, the kind of build that came from working out instead of being vain. His face had lost the softness of youth and become sharper, making him look older and more serious.
But the biggest change was in his eyes. They didn't run away anymore.
They didn't want to be liked or be afraid of being judged. They just looked at him, calm and judging, like someone who knew exactly who he was and didn't need anyone else to confirm it.
Logan had built himself up from nothing, and he had done it all by himself, without help, without taking any shortcuts, and without anyone believing in him. This was supposed to be a normal training session.
He had planned to run ten miles and then do an hour of calisthenics. Two years ago, this kind of workout would have killed him, but now it felt like meditation.
He put on his shoes, went outside into the cool evening air, and started running through the quiet streets of his neighborhood. The first few miles went by in a blur of steady breathing and footsteps that went with the beat.
Logan's mind was clear. He was only thinking about how his body moved and how strong he felt with every step. He pushed himself harder than usual tonight, running up the hills and lengthening his stride on the flat parts to see how far he could go.
His muscles were on fire by mile eight. His lungs were screaming by mile nine. He was running on pure willpower by the tenth mile, and every step was a defiance of the part of him that wanted to stop.
He kept going until he pushed through the eleventh mile and then the twelfth, never slowing down. He kept going even though sweat was pouring down his face and his heart was pounding in his chest like it was trying to break through his ribs.
He ran until the edges of his vision started to blur, until his legs felt like they might give out, and until he had pushed himself so far that something had to break. And then the world stopped making noise.
[And there it is... that one turning point that could change my life as I embrace my new self here.]
Everything felt muted around him, as if someone had turned down the volume on reality. Logan's footsteps stopped making noise.
The sound of traffic in the distance faded away. It felt like his own breathing was coming from a long way away.
He stopped in the middle of an empty park, hands on his knees, chest heaving, and waited for the moment to pass.
It didn't go through.
Something else happened instead.
A voice spoke, not from outside but from inside his head. It was loudly clear, and he couldn't ignore it.
[Heart-Stealing System Activated]