Last night, when I was getting ready to go to bed, I suddenly went utterly mad. This may sound funny to some of you, but that’s what really happened. Laughter echoed in my head. Some awful, tiny creature cackled in my ears — was it making fun of me?

Then I felt anger, the true essence of anger, run through my veins. In my mind’s eye, I saw a golden serpent with black eyes slither in tunnels filled with blood.

I took all my clothes off and stood in front of my bedroom mirror. “This isn’t who I am,” I said. “This can’t be who I am,” I cried. But I knew that this was who I have become.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, though. I have been doing nothing for years. I have been making bad decisions for years, one bad move after another. I’ve been digging this hole for years. (Look how deep it is!)

Sloth.

I fell on my knees and I cried for some time. I must have repented. I hated myself, and I blamed myself for it. I did not like myself, and I wanted to change right there and then. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t metamorphose into a better version of myself. That was impossible — impossible to instantaneously become someone I can be proud of. It must be earned.

It must be earned. Brick by brick. With hard work, perseverance, discipline… You name it.

Then I stood up again and I said to myself, “I’m thirty-one years old and unhappy; therefore, I must do something about it.”

I took a cold shower and thought about my life — who I am, how I can change, what habits I should break, what I should be eating, what I should be reading, what I should be doing, and so on. Then I started singing:

This isn’t me
This isn’t me at all
Can’t you see, oh baby
Where’s the waterfall?

Naked again. In front of the mirror again. “This isn’t who I am,” I said, “But whoever this person is, he is much cleaner than he was half an hour ago.”

I was already proud of myself. I had taken the first step (and the first step is the hardest). I saw myself become who I wanted to become. I was smiling, shaking hands with people, making jokes. I was telling everyone, “I knew it was impossible, but I did it anyway.” I was giving them advice on how they can become better versions of themselves…

For some time I enjoyed these pleasant thoughts; then I tried to sleep but I couldn’t. I knew I wasn’t going to change tomorrow. I knew I wasn’t going to do anything.