I pray, that everything would be alright. That God would help us all to get through it in one piece.  It’s going to be lonely and miserable. But lets see what this makes us in the end…

I know i’m better than what i think i am. I’m meant for things beyond the ordinary. So I take for in a conclusion that my life can never be seen as normal. I’m trained to kill, and to coordinate a team to kill another. My life is revolves around the nature of war. And I like it. In the more romantic sense, I see my self as the lone ranger, who’s one purpose is to be a fighter, who can never adapt to the fancies of a social life. Honestly speaking, I freeze up speaking to a person I fancy especially of the opposite sex. I can never conjure up enough courage and initiative in the face of such a situation, ironically in opposition to what the nature of my job requires me to have.

Probably thats why in such a situation, I give up the fastest, the easiest. My thoughts are never centered around myself, but rather for the sake of those around me. “Can they adapt to me?” “Would they be able to accept me for who I am”? ” Would my job inadvertently cause me to ignore their needs?” “would I upset them?” It’s always about someone else I think about, someone else I would consider before making a decision. Do I really care so much about others before I take myself seriously? The spirit of sacrifice is the one of the greatest qualities of human kind. But how much is too much? I don’t even know that myself.

I gave it a thought today about my predicament. Maybe it will just fade away sooner or later into the depths of time and age. But maybe it will just come back and haunt me every time. I would never know how to solve this problem.

I can’t believe I still have a whole darn box of it. The many many tiny things, letters and notes that I had collected over time. Over the time that once was sweeter even more so than nectar. Of course this “nectar” had turned out to be no more than the bitter poison of my heart. However still, I took it out. And read through every single word, remembered the cause for the particular item or word written. Strange enough, instead of being so heart wrenched, I actually felt a sense of comfort. I even gave a smile once reading a particular article.  Where thereafter I was taken aback by my delusional antics…

Maybe then, it’s not so much about the past but rather the happenings in present days. I guess I yearn once more for that feeling. But of course minus the hurt. My setbacks in recent days have probed me to seek comfort in at least something, so I don’t know if this is what I sought for.

My mind tells me though, how illogical and stupid I am in this condition. I guess everything should be taken with a pinch of salt and well, conviction and patience is the key. I will wait, I will persist.

There are so many things I wish to do while out here. Yet, there seems one time a many that my mind goes blank. So things, are left undone, uncontinued and impossible to progress.

I cherish every moment spent, every glance taken, every word spoken. It’s just such a pity it isn’t there yet.

That’s right, I was enlisted into National Service on the 27th of April. Much to my delight, this enthusiasm was without a doubt backed with throes of nerves. Because it was something I wanted to do so much, I gave myself a lot of pressure into it. I wanted to be the best that I can be while being on the lost and lonely island of Pulau Tekong.

It first came lightly to us as mild regimentation was instilled. After all, it was adjustment week for the first fortnight. Or more like 17 days. All basic things such as learning drills and how to wear our uniforms were taught to us. The pressure however soon came on to us as we were set to be an example for the rest of the companies being the enhanced leadership batch. While other companies took learning slower, for example during our weapon technical handling lessons, the knowledge and skills were taught to us hard and fast. We were expected to absorb fast and to be efficient and to have expert levels of confidence on the test the very next day.

Such pressure was the least of our problems as our adjustment week was over and the veil of protection from punishment was lifted. We found ourselves vulnerable to punishments and reprimands of all sorts. And we were now legally liable for our actions and wrong doings according to the SAF law. At first it came to us as impending doom, but we quickly understood that common sense and much caution kept us away from trouble. However as much dreaded, some things cannot be avoided. The real training to be a fighting soldier came in as we learnt and got to fire our weapons both in the day and night, learning basic urban warfighting  and learning our core skills as infantry soldiers to be able to fight and survive outfield, learnt well and good during our 6 day field camp.

Field camp was dreaded by many including myself, and to add on, there was to be a route march of 8 kilometers to the campsite before it commenced. We gave it as hard as we could into the route march, although I think we gave too much leaving little for the rigours the lay ahead of the route march. As soon as the route march was over, low and behold, I was appointed Platoon IC. And of all times I had to bear the biggest load of responsibility. To be a commander out in the field. As I soon learnt as we got screwed over and over again trying to move our tired bodies as fast as we could, but not fast enough for the commanders, being a leader was tough. More so outfield. Your men become tired and hence becoming uncooperative. The environment didn’t assist much in the administrative work as strength checking was a pain in the ass in the dark. But I soon developed a system that allowed faster counting which later ICs soon utilised. The night was dreaded as the darkness made movement slower, in addition to the amount of caked mud on the sole of our boots making it heavier. As such, we were prone to punishments and more and more mindfucking. Sparing the details, we emerged from field camp more disciplined and definitely more dirty, greener looking and more appreciative of the little luxuries we have outside.

However, that was not the last outfield as our situational test approached. The test that determinded our suitability to be commanders in the armed forces. Thankfully it was just 3 days and I felt great as I thought I had done well on the tests, offering exceptional mission successes on the operations under my charge.

The rest of the time spent in BMT was to clear off all our lessons and tests necessary for us to pass the course, or rather for me to enter command school. That included grenade throwing, IPPT, SOC, and all the other PT and close combat lessons.

Swiftly, the end of BMT approached as we found ourselves continuously rehearsing for our graduation parade. In that process we knew only one thing stood in our way, the final 24km route march. There were fears, but yet yearning to complete this with a bang for an amazing end to BMT. 24km does not actually seem long to me as I ran marathons before. However, the difference is not only the immense load that we carried, but was also the added pressure to not let your fellow men down as we kept each other going with continuous songs, swearing, taking the piss out of each other, trying to keep everyone awake and moving fast for about 7 hours dead in the darkness of the night. It was indeed an emotional experience having completed such a grueling task under the worst possible conditions upon myself having abrasions and a badly blistered pair of feet. As we found each passing moment a maturing one for us, we found ourselves worthy to pass off the parade square, each knowing all the shit we gone through qualifies us to move on, to even greater endeavours.

Through this experience, I was greatly humbled. All the shortsighted notions of what army would be, being a military junkie myself was dispelled as I came to realise that soldiering is really not an easy job. And that if I were wanting to take this on as a career, much more was to be expected of me. Alas, we just need to take this to heed, Sierra Tango.

Maybe, I should just say it out.

There has been a change lately, probably more of a change for the worse. There’s no one else to blame for actually other than myself. Sitting down on the floor of the train while going home, I think. Of what? I don’t really know.

Maybe I was thinking of this: You see, I may not look like it, especially those who don’t really know me to the fullest extent. I’m actually an individual with a horrid number of flaws. My insecurities, are endless. My temper, sharp, snappy and always on a hairline trigger. My social abilities are near a state of autistic behaviour. I’m bothered about this really the most. I’m really really afraid of a negative reaction. So many a times I prefer not to say what I truly feel. If I do to you, congrats, you mean more to me on many many levels. Fear grips me like a vice right at my throat. I don’t dare tell others what I feel and think, leaving that process and debate in my own mind for me to know, for me to feel. But if it were that simple, I’ll be living cloud nine in my head right now. ‘Cus I know I have to be better than this. That the hesitation and that passiveness around many a things would get me in to serious trouble sooner or later. I’m struck with this curse that my speech far lags behind my ability to think. So, whatever I want to say is most of the time, if not all the time left in the dumps at the back of my head, right behind an ongoing conversation. Sometimes, a monologue even because one person who is not me, speaks only. I don’t.

As a result, it brings on this dreadful and overbearing consequence that simply just puts me down all the time. Firstly, I’m easily misunderstood by others. Whether is it to be scary, or fierce or whatever that denotes an anti social behaviour. And also, I sometimes say things that come too late or not to be even said at all. Ideas, thoughts, emotions are not conveyed and thus, others seem to handle me in a manner that further provokes me, bringing me further down. Little does one know that in almost every conversation, I fight to bring my words and thoughts out when I sense the least of discomforts while talking with another person. It’s tiring.

With this holiday, being the most stupidest, uneventful, dissapointing one ever. I have even further degenerated my social abilities. It’s just so hard to come to terms with all the shit the comes my way I can’t even find the strength to talk to others.

I’m horribly cursed.

Joyously, you told me.

Joyously, I moved my cheeks upwards in an attempt of a smile.

But painfully, my gut wrenched and churned as the words reached my ears.

Spite me you did.

Knew it, you didn’t.

The truth be told to you, pales in to what it was meant to mean towards you.

That is because maybe, you were blinded by your own happiness.

Or maybe, the truth be told, was never the truth.

The truth is only etched right in the deep walls of the heart.

This truth awaits you, for one day, should misery befall you, should you lose what you should never lose, be comforted by this very truth.

For someone awaits you. For someone will always want to wish you love and many joyful smiles and joyful tears for many years.

Someone willing to be what your heart craves for.

For it is strongly believed by this person that it had all along been meant to be.

For this person, would stand fast. Would tarry. Would wait in hopes of being that privileged one.

For now, I shall wear the jolly boots, and run fast.

From Bugis Junction to Bugis Village, to Albert Street, to Bencoolen Street, down to Sunshine Plaza, back up to Wilkie road, to Mackenzie Road, went to Sheares, down Serangoon Road, past Tekka Mall( where it started to storm), down into Syed Alwi road, crossing Mustafa Centre, up Verdun Road (because the rest of Syed Alwi Road was flooded so could not cross), to Kitchener Road, into Tyrwhitt Road, past Allenby Road, crossing King George’s avenue, into French Road, hitting Kallang Road, past the ICA Building, past Crawford Centre up to Beach Road army market, got harrased by shop keepers, left in a hurry down Beach Road past Jalan Sultan, Sultan Gate, Bussorah Street, Arab street, Haji lane, Tan Quee Lan Street, Liang Seah street, Middle Road, Purvis Street, Seah Street, and back into Starbucks at City Hall all wet and freezing. so I got hot chocolate.

This was what I noted down in my iphone first. Yeah so i went all around exploring the area, looking at new sights and sounds. I nearly went into the Hindu temple, but I just stood outside to see while they were conducting some sermons I believe. Then it started to rain heavily and I could only walk in the five foot ways where I squeezed in with like minded people who sought shelter too. Occasionally I got harassed by massage palour owners to come in for those 22 dollar massages, which made me walk even faster. I carried on the journey through these paths and got soaked further and further as I crossed the un-sheltered lanes that ran perpendicular to these five foot ways. The atmosphere at Mustafa centre was booming as I noticed hoards of people depositing their bags before entering into the building. I noticed all sorts of people hung out in that area. The usual suspects were the Indians, foreign workers probably. Chinese Nationals, Bangladeshis, Filipinos, Africans, and our locals. The only way you could tell they were locals is probably by the way they spoke. I got stucked in this area for a while as I could not cross the road. The rain had caused the road ahead to be flooded up to the ankles. So I had to make my way around it to get back on path. I walked past lots of old shop houses, permeating with nostalgia. It was almost like I was in another country, the old tyre shops, the spice factories, Indian fortune tellers and run down coffee shops selling great smelling mutton soup and fried oyster cakes.

By the time I made it back to Raffles City, I was soaking wet and cold as hell. Nevertheless, happy with a sense of accomplishment to see the unique sights of Singapore, apart from the usual Orchard or city areas.

Some say innately, humans are animals and that we cannot escape from our most primal behaviours. Our basic needs need to be fulfilled and we would do anything, just about any darn thing to get it. To kill, maim, cheat, steal and so on… Placed in the most horrible situations, most would do the most horrible things to get out of it. Even if it meant having to render their morals voided.

It is known that the first world war was one of mankind’s greatest catastrophes. Where men crossed swords and bayonets, lined up and dug in trenches, braving the unforgiving weather, braving hunger and braving bullets, bombs and blades. Men from both sides engaged in bloody battles, some even ended up in crazed hand to hand combat, gutting each other, wanting to see each other draw their last breath so that they themselves could breathe their next. Those were the darkest days of human history, their eyes could only see two colours, grey and the crimson red of blood.

However, I guess just like how we can’t generalize people, we can’t generalize humans based on their deeds. In those trenches lined with barbed wires with the bodies of the enemy strung over it and the shell craters filled with the dismembered bodies of men, many of them young initially but aged with the weariness of war, there came that day. Christmas day. This day many of us today take for granted as merely a holiday. A day of relaxation, the comforting feel of hot chocolate and marshmallows over an oak wood fire. But for the men wearing the uniforms of their country, December 25th 1914 meant much more than a holiday to them.

Both sides laid down their rifles and blades. On Christmas eve night, German troops began decorating the area around their trenches in the region of Ypres, Belgium, for Christmas. They began by placing candles on trees, then continued the celebration by singing Christmas carols, most notably Stille Nacht (Silent Night). The British troops in the trenches across from them responded by singing English carols.

The two sides continued by shouting Christmas greetings to each other. Soon thereafter, there were calls for visits across the “No Man’s Land” where small gifts were exchanged — whisky, jam, cigars, chocolate, and the like. The soldiers exchanged gifts, sometimes addresses, and drank together. The artillery in the region fell silent that night. The truce also allowed a breathing spell where recently-fallen soldiers could be brought back behind their lines by burial parties. Proper burials took place as soldiers from both sides mourned the dead together and paid their respects.

The truce spread to other areas of the lines, and there are many stories of football matches between the opposing forces.

The next day, both sides went back into their trenches, and the savagery of human behaviour continued for the next 3 years and for many many more years in various wars that humans never seem to be bad at creating.

However, there was warmth, for a while. For Christmas  meant something more to them than just another day to continue on this bitter, meaningless fight.

It is official, it has been one year. 29th of November. It doesn’t really take a genius to know what I’m talking about. It was that fateful decision that I made on this day last year that probably dictated what was to happen this year. My God, never did I know that one simple action, masked in a facade of bliss could have such a devastating impact. Horror, what horror.

What has changed? I guess it’s my whole outlook on life. Maybe the entire, maybe just some aspects. Nevertheless, I have been a more bitter person. I can hardly see the world for what it is. Always would I go a further step to think about what people do, or the likelihood of any positivity. Making that decision on this day last year had indeed initially laid a veil over my eyes. I could never see beyond my own happiness that was never meant to have lasted. Throughout that period of time, I had ignored friends, ignored my family, ignored my passions, my lifestyle. Dedicating my life to a means that would reach no end. When the shit hit the fan, I would have realized that I have ruined my life through and through.

It has been a bitter fight to remove myself from this rut. I guess there are some lessons to learn. That probably the most important thing is your own happiness. Even if it’s for others. My point is that one must make himself well, before he can seek to make others well. And probably to take everything with seriousness, but with a pinch of salt.

This is probably the last time I would write a thing on this matter, I won’t want to do a two year remembrance, three year remembrance and so on. It’s just too juvenile. I have better things to look forward to. People expect better of me, and I would fulfill that faith.

Never would I mop, but neither would I forget. For deep down, it will always remain as that stubborn scar you can never get rid of.

That is all.