new perspective

This is overdue.
This was once a fluent, coherent thought.
I have lost it, or most of it. It is no longer the same thought.
I can only write in the semblance of it, which I eventually might not do at all.
It would be cool if I knew how to write all this in Latin. Or French.

Seven months. Almost exactly, now. Looking back it seems like those months have just, snap, gone past — when each living moment then, whilst it was the present, crawled. Time is a strange thing. But memory is stranger.

 Everything about this year feels so new. I feel new. And I don't mean new as in fresh and liberated; I feel alien to myself. Being forced to adapt in an environment far and well out of my comfort zone has changed me so much — in a literal, physical sense. I hatehatehate to say it, but it is fact: I am much stronger and fitter now. I see myself completing two point four click runs at timings that were previously ridiculous and impossible to me. I find myself not getting burnt out as quickly, or not sweating as much after certain training sessions. These little signs of progress that I notice are just so inyourface and seem to happen so suddenly that it scares me. What was or is more awkward was (and I say "was" vaguely as "is") the incongruence between my projection of myself and the truth of the matter. I was/ am in denial, believing that I was/ am not an "athletic/ exercise-a-lotsy" person, though that is continuously getting harder not to accept. Or reconcile with. Which makes it all the more poignant how my unsportliness is out of a willed resistance rather than a genuine inclination in the opposite direction.

More importantly, though, this experience so far has shown me how powerful an open mind is. Even though it was uncomfortable. I have learnt not to be afraid of my insecurities — or at least this insecurity. In some way I also feel I have become a better-rounded person, since my fitness is not as much a weakness as it was before. Go me.

*

Lately the déjà vus I have have lost its eerie, sublimal effect — that woozy gush through the spine (I don't know if it's the same for everyone?). That inkly feeling has always been the indicator of a déjà vu for me, such that I had subconsciously associated the magic woosh to be the déjà vu itself. Now that it doesn't happen anymore the déjà vu feels... unspecial. I suspect it has something to do with how the unexpected doesn't really surprise me anymore. E.g. Michael Jackson's death.