Most people run from pain. I run with it.
Somewhere between the fire in my legs, the sting of rainfall slapping my face, and the echo of early morning silence, I realized something about myself:
Pain doesn’t break me. It builds me. It’s the fuel to my transformation: physical, mental, and spiritual.
I’ve always thought discipline was about control. But no, it’s about transmutation. Taking the heat of chaos, struggle, loneliness, or lust, and molding it into motion. Into art. Into triumph. Into clarity.
That’s when Believer by Imagine Dragons struck a different chord.
> “My life, my love, my drive; it came from... PAIN! You break me down, you built me up Believer, BELIEVER.”
That line wasn’t just a lyric anymore.
It was my reflection.
Each long run, each aching morning, every solo battle against comfort and softness; they’ve turned me into something else. Someone else. I no longer crave dopamine highs. I crave the burn, because it sharpens me. Humbles me. Wakes me up.
Even the spiritual storms, the moments of guilt, temptation, or confusion have only added layers to my becoming. Because I don’t numb myself anymore. I confront, I channel and I convert.
I moaned at Bijoy Sarani not from pleasure, but from ignition of an inner fire, from brutal intensity, and from a refusal to live passively.
That moment wasn’t odd, it was symbolic. It was raw energy being redirected toward something greater than indulgence: Victory.
Pain is no longer my enemy. It's my craftsman.
And I...
I am its proof.
> “PAIN! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer.”
I am Beasonic. I am Marathonic.
And now, I am also the Believer.
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