Memories

(The reason why I have not blogged for a while was that this entry is so complex and emotionally triggerring enough such that I had to take all that time to plan and type it out.)

It's the time of the year again. The time when 18 and 19 year-olds reluctantly tote their bags up to the ferry with their families, en route to Pulau Tekong. Pretend to be strong, try to convince oneself that it's inevitable.

But nothing can hide the truth that the first day of 2 years of bring subservient to a military is going to be painful. I've been through it and I ought to know.

It was 3 years back. After make some final checks, I lugged the bag of belongings with me and went with my parents to Pasir Ris MRT where a bus would bring me to that island of doom.

I felt queasy. It was a horrible feeling of dread, a feeling that made me feel woozy and morose at the same time, a feeling that sent my heart thumping and my hands cold. It was a feeling I slow got accquainted with further into conscription. It was the feeling that came every Sunday night when I had to report back to camp, it was the feeling that came right before standard obstacle courses and any other tight situations.

I don't recall why, but on that fateful enlistment day, I was totally hating the presence of my parents around me, and I really couldn't wait to shake them off. I was displacing my feelings of dread and sadness with hate, and that sorta prevented me from wallowing too much in my self pity.

I tried to convince myself that I wanted to get away from my parents right there and then, to lead my own life. I hated every single bit about them then. Their nagging. The way they keep on complaining about things, the way they expect me to just be a man and suck it up.

Perhaps that did help to blunt the blow. The military took away my identity, they took away my freedom, they took away the most basic things one usually takes for granted - access to clean water that doesn't reek of chlorine, sufficient free time to get a proper shower, the right to say no. But there was this flame in me that screams that it's all worth it, that it's all inevitable. I recall hardly having called home throughout - that senseless hatred for my home and family was a crutch I didn't want to let go. I had to convince myself that there was some good in being in conscription (I later realised that there wasn't any good to me at all.)

I soldiered on. I did my best to fit in, but it's so damn hard. Some birds simply aren't meant to be caged. All I wanted to do in my free time was to sit in the corner of the bunk, back on the cold metal cupboard door, earphones jammed in ears. I'm a loner. Everyone has his way of coping. Being a loner is mine. I simply couldn't imagine mingling with the rest of the bunkmates like good friends when I was so damned morose and lost at the same time. The only thing that remains the same, no matter what, is the music playing on the Discman, the soothing and upbeat voices of my favourite singers accompany me the same way, no matter who or how I am.

Hazy and painful memories. It was a painfully long blur.
Memories of the little things like the creaking metal shades along the corridors in the morning.
Memories of being made to do push-ups in the soggy mud.
Memories of the sunset along the island coast.
Memories of being ruthlessly shouted at for that defiant look in my eye.
Memories of being physically and emotionally pushed nearly to tears.
Memories of forcing myself to run with the platoon while having a nasty fever, just so as to not sabotage my booking out for the weekend for that week.
Memories of painful knees and painful feet.
Memories of being so frustrated at everything I was punching the walls until my knuckles were sore and red.
Memories of losing touch with old friends.
Memories of hearing of the tragic death of an ex-teacher's husband, and not being able to go to the funeral.

I gotta admit, most people cope much better than I did, but this is my story, and there is no way that I can deny having experienced all these. 3 years on. And I haven't really got to come to terms with all these bad experiences yet. I looked back at my blog entries from that time 3 years back, and well, I sorta saw that I got quite messed-up emotionally along the way, but I sorta refused to blog about it. Now that I've come to terms with it, let this be the final nail into this box of memories I do not want to uncover anymore.