In Continuum.

Death of Me

How can you say your life is empty
So late in the day
Why would you stay another second
Now your sight got in the way
A combination
Of love and aggression
Another second lived

"Okay...",i said,as i took a step out of the elevator down at the void deck below my house.It was one of those self-reassuring words,a way to calm myself down for whatever that comes along before me.You guys should try it,it works like gangbusters.Anyway,so there i was in the middle of the windy void deck,and it mustve been the youthful evening coming along,because it was in a shade of dark blue everywhere then,and the rain clouds coming down once again.Im not sure,but every life-altering event seems to happen in a rainy void deck,personally.It's strange,but i remember back then,thinking about the same thing,as i unlocked the mailbox and reached in to find the letter from Mindef.

That happened a little less than two years ago,on a rainy October afternoon.I think it was Halloween Day,and the letter for my enlistment sort of came bouncing up my front door asking for trick or treats.Of course,it's not like i can wave this irritating brat out of my way with a broom and a shotgun,because this kid before me is not dressed up as Dracula or the Creature from the Black Lagoon,but rather in full army uniform and a rifle in his hand,asking me to come along with him for the next two years crawling through mud and contribute your heart,soul and blood to the country,and mosquitos too.

Don't paint the silence black now save me
Don't leave it a day
You got a right to stand or die so maybe
You take chances all the same
Pain comes in stages
If we dont make it
Nothing changes

That was when i got my enlistment letter,and on the stone bench i read the letter to myself and the date.I thought to myself back then,that i was going to die in the army.I was so sure of it,and didnt mean it the figurative way.I truly,thought that i was going to die in the army because of how weak i was,physically.I never really expected it to be so mental,until right now,almost two years down the road with 91 days left ahead of me.It's all in the head,and it is true what people say about national service.I was certain about my death,and it was coming soon for me as i sat there on the cold hard bench,wondering who'd attend my funeral and the fitting song to play when my casket is carried through the hall.That is,if my limbs are intact and my face is not disfigured by some C-4 bomb,whatever.

I've come a damn long way from there,and to be honest i am not afraid of challenges anymore.At least,not the possible ones i can think of.Because really,after NS,i dont think there is anything worth being frightened about,really.It's probably the most stressful,and in a way fruitful thing that could happen to you mentally and emotionally.Of course,that very much depends on the character and personality,who you are foundationally that matters.

Now the violence sleeps inside
Abandoned feeling for just a piece of mind
It's the reason why your teething side frustrates me

I think i was talking to a friend last weekend,though i forgot who.He or she asked how it's like now,being at the end of this very long,very dreadful,very tiring journey of mine through the hills of the training areas,the desert of India,the waters of Sarimbun Reservoir and of course,the sweat and blood of myself.I remember that certainty climbing up the back of my spine into my mind again,about how certain i was about the death of me.Now that i think of it,despite the fact that i still have my limbs intact,face ordinarily-formed and able to talk,i think a part of me DID die through the journey of it all,in a good way of course.

Like i said previously,i just sort of ended my very last outfield of my army career.It's hardly a career,considering the pathetic amount of pay that comes along with it.But i guess in a way,looking back at the days being tormented by officers and the timings to meet,there were really great and fond memories.We were just sitting in the vehicle the other night,with the weather turning chilly and the insects awakening to the sound of the night,we talked about the memories that we had through the times that we shared.It was a great night then,as we spilled our guts about anything and everything.From QinYou's ridiculous perfume during National Day,to the incident of the 8 Vs. 10 sinks thing,to the inevitable Eugene-motherfucking-Sin,to the other outfields that we've had.Of course,i dont think it is possible to recall everything in one single post.We didnt even finish talking about those in one single night.I regret,in a certain way,that i didnt blog during that period of time.I only started at the beginning of this year,or rather re-started.And the memories back then would only remain as images in my mind.But i guess,just talking about them with friends,even ten twenty years down the road,is going to bring back the same emotions,blogged or not.

Dont leave me to pick up on your questions
Not even a day
It's alright to finish up your sentence
You talk all the same
Pain comes in stages if we don't make it
Nothing changes

I think that there is a part of me that died,going through the journey myself.And i am glad that it did,because i wouldnt have moved on if it kept alive,kept breathing,and myself remaining the same.It wouldnt be right,to say that they've wasted two years of your time,because ultimately it is up to you to say,if the time has been wasted at all.And i think,by the time this journey ends for me,i am going to say that,though things sucked,i didnt waste my time around at all,because i've gained so much by losing so much.I've lived so well by dying so thoroughly.You know,like this childish side of me,this inner-child dying from the murder of this other self.It is not slaughter,there is no blood shed.It is the simple,very natural way of evolution,a sort of mental growth if you must.

Now the violence sleeps inside
Abandoned feeling for just a piece of mind
It's the reason why your teething side irates me

So on yet another strange,windy afternoon,i take a visit to my grave.My own grave that i dug for myself over the months of toil.I do not have tears,i do not have grief,but before the tombstone of myself(Which by the way,i wish to have the last lines of The Great Gatsby carved),i brushed my palm over the top of it and bid it farewell.Underneath the earth,beneath the stones and the rocks,that is where my old self should remain till the end of times,because right now i am going to move on,just on without the burden of that...rather immature self.