It is my second worst Sunday in my life (second only to the Sabbath that preceded this one). The melancholic dread supersedes whatever blues are promised on the morrow; for the blues that plague this Sunday is more than just a tinge darker and heavier than the shade of Monday blues, and that's coming from someone who is colour blind. The looming event of booking-in has never been more of a dreadful prospect but alas, the long weekend has finally (albeit it vanished almost instantly) drawn to a close and I must return to the hellish arms of the 01/15 Guards Conversion Course.

But against all the reluctance and morbid fluctuations in my emotions, I want to book-in and I look forward to going through another unbearable and unexpected week. I am most definitely not a sadist nor a self-masochist; rather, upon sifting through some of my older blog posts, fate led me to resurfacing some of the reasons for the path I chose to walk through National Service--for my family, for my pride and for my growth.

But these reasons hardly form a strong motivation force when the going gets too tough for the tough to even want to get going. And sometimes when I officially get to leave the gates of camp, which may come at the price of 2 false hopes, I just want to throw up all my sufferings and experiences in the past week on the people around me. But I forget they have a life outside of the green abyss that is my army life. There are certainly more exciting and intriguing things ongoing all the time but it's really hard for me to accept that. Considering how I spend a good 17 hours each weekday awake and slogging my guts out "for the country", it's no wonder I'm perpetually lodged inside my own bubble of what is called interesting and worthwhile to share.

The blatant truth is nobody really cares what's going on. That hour spent doing a beach turnout could have been the longest and lowest 60 minutes of my life but it can so candidly be retold as "I got wet and sandy." Period. No, you cannot recreate the feelings you had at your lowest point. That will forever be a secret between your buddies who suffered together with you.

But you hold that feeling dear. And you keep your annoyance at bay, because everybody deserves to be interested in whatever they want to.

And you remember that while you are doing this for yourself, you are doing this for them too.

War: We fight not because we hate who, or what's in front of us, but because we love what's beside and behind us.

And like always, I just suck it up, and soldier on.