as i trudged forward with a heavy load on my back, helmet on my right and my armour vest on my right, i start to wonder... why am i doing this? the masses of green surged forward with much enthusiasm and pride and assembled on ground. i started to lag behind. however, i pushed forward and down came my bag which was twice as heavy as everyone's. i start to wonder again, why am i doing this, why must my field pack be heavier than everyone's?
and revelation found me. the reason will be BECAUSE IM NOT MARCHING. lol.
pop is great. well more or less. sat in a shelter for 6 hours and left on the first ferry out of fucking terror tekong.
i have no idea what i have achieved during these 9 weeks. friends yes. but anything else? fuck no. i still hate the whole national service thing. i dread every bit of it. especially the regimentation. honestly, i believe in mercenaries and outsourcing.
the army did not manage to brainwash me in bmt and they never will.
kk, enought of saf nonsense. im sick and tired of all these for the country's glory shit. being a soldier in singapore is just standard procedure of every male.
im FUCKING FAT NOW. SO FAT THAT ITS NOT FUNNY AT ALL. GOD SEND A LIGHTNING BOLT AND TURN MY FATS TO DUST PLEASE. help me please.
URRRGH. im speechless yet again. but once again, farewell fucking tekong. i hope murphy's law will never happen. if it does, i will really kill myself. urrgh.
