It’s not like I have nothing to say, or have lost the capacity for thinking and expressing myself in complete sentences, , but I don’t wanna start sounding like a kitsch filled broken record each time I blog. I tend to read out whatever I write in my head to myself, and currently the only sound’s a nail on chalkboard.
I’m wondering if I’m doing who I am or was a disservice during my national service. Don’t get me wrong, I’m embracing each minute of it with eyes wide shut. But when I was thirteen or fourteen I would return home at around midnight every Friday because cell group was at Choa Chu Kang, Kim’s house, and I’d brave the journey there and back because I wanted to. I haven’t been to church in about a month now, because returning home at 4am each Saturday night makes you sleepy. And the strains of a love song for a saviour try to pipe in.
So as I sit and think of words I can mention to show my devotion I guess it’s time to stop when the backspace key’s been eroded from the over use.
