Just recently watched a Singaporean movie about their National Service, and started thinking back about mine.
It has been a few years already, thosesweet memories came back to me like waves on that seashore during the mornings. I could picture the vividly the vicinity of that campsite, images accompanied by the noises in the dormitories as well as the scents of feaces, clothes detergent and shower gels in the bathroom. The weekdays of waking up before sunrise for morning jogs and lame exercises, followed by breakfast where I had only ever eaten plain bread, hard-boiled eggs, and nothing else. Then to the classrooms for the rest of the morning, for a time of education and character building by going through various lesson plans. Since I did not take spicy foods, lunch naturally became a napping or diary writing time. The evenings were the worst, thus I do not wish to remember them. My soul only started to feel better when the night came. It was during NS when I began looking at the sky differently altogether. The stars and the night time must take credit for my first ever attempt on poetry, they were probably the only good source of comfort I had throughout that three months of torment. People change, circumstances change, I changed; but the night sky will always be there whenever I look up.
Remembering what I had been through a few years ago, I could not help but to start cursing in my head. My heartbeat raced and sweat began dripping although it was not very hot in the room, and not very long later, tears started rolling down these cheeks and I quickly shut the door, fell to my knees with my face on the bed, wanting to cry it out loud but held back because there were other people in the house.
It was a dark period, a very depressing time.
My life changed, forevermore.
I started wondering to myself, having once heard that somehow your teachers in school might be able to do something that makes you stand a better chance of getting selected for National Service. What I started thinking was: if this were true and my class teacher had ANYTHING to do with my enrollment into the NS, only God knows if I would hesitate to lambaste her nosiness or even do harm to her. Revenge though nothing can be done to undo the damages, what a dreadful thought to dwell on. Deep in my heart I know that if my teacher did recommend me for NS, she meant well. However the knowledge of her goodwill may never be enough for me to forgive her or get over the horrendous experience. IF she had anything to do with it in the first place.
Remembering the past, looking at present scars.
It has been a few years already, those
Remembering what I had been through a few years ago, I could not help but to start cursing in my head. My heartbeat raced and sweat began dripping although it was not very hot in the room, and not very long later, tears started rolling down these cheeks and I quickly shut the door, fell to my knees with my face on the bed, wanting to cry it out loud but held back because there were other people in the house.
It was a dark period, a very depressing time.
My life changed, forevermore.
I started wondering to myself, having once heard that somehow your teachers in school might be able to do something that makes you stand a better chance of getting selected for National Service. What I started thinking was: if this were true and my class teacher had ANYTHING to do with my enrollment into the NS, only God knows if I would hesitate to lambaste her nosiness or even do harm to her. Revenge though nothing can be done to undo the damages, what a dreadful thought to dwell on. Deep in my heart I know that if my teacher did recommend me for NS, she meant well. However the knowledge of her goodwill may never be enough for me to forgive her or get over the horrendous experience. IF she had anything to do with it in the first place.
Remembering the past, looking at present scars.
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