It’s that time of the month again where sleep is a commodity, food comes in trusty green packets, blisters are your best friends and the fact that you stink to high heaven doesn’t really matter because smelling take s too much time and effort . Ahh, familiarity breeds mosquitoes.
Suddenly field camp during BMT seems like a stroll in an acrid and buzzing park compared to the 12 days in Tekong starting tommorow. And I wonder if I’m trying to put on a brave front at the expense of trivializing past experiences. And a sudden burst of frustration. MAN. JUST WHAT AM I TAKING AWAY FROM ALL THIS
Do you recall the prose we did in English A1 bout the soldier returning from war and visiting his loved one’s grave with the ringing of shells in his ear and not being able to return emotionally and mentally as he did physically? Can’t remember where the text was extracted from and tell me if you know it but yeah that’s the problem right there. And fine it’s just National Service, we ain’t fighting no war and we’ll be gettin our pink ICs back in a year and then some.
But I still wonder, am I gonna get my life back? Or is it something that I can never return to. This scares me.
