“A secret kept even from ourselves:
how bridges are falling
between the imagined word
and the spoken one,
between what I say
and what you actually hear.
If you could slow
time down, perhaps you might
even hear them falling.
Bridges of years our hearts
have signed away to crumble,
collapse
down the middle, leaving
behind a gasp
of air between two banks, wide
with unspoken truths,
a thousand pleas for empathy.
New bridges are rising
into form, incompletion, then
falling away. Maybe it is
this moment of our lives,
when the bridges
left standing are the ones
we miss,
when the ones we did
not mean to build
we built
from betrayal, regret, guilt and loss.”
– Cyril Wong, Bridges
2014/09/07
Begin again
To think that I never would've even imagined myself being where I am now just last year came as quite the shocker to me. After service tonight, a few cell group mates from poly who enlisted not long ago shared with us their experiences in and thoughts toward BMT, most of which were, frankly, rather expected and unsurprising as far as a recruit's life is concerned. They rambled on about their expectations beyond BMT, all of which obviously didn't broach the possibility of being sent directly to a unit, because well, "who doesn't want to go to command school?". Nevertheless, it was enjoyable catching up with them, and seeing how they waxed lyrical about their training, buddies and takeaways with wide-eyed excitement, I would genuinely be surprised if they didn't manage to get to where they wanted to go beyond their POP. But of course, the SAF being the SAF, it's still advisable to leave plenty of room to the imagination – one can never know how lucky (or unlucky) he can possibly get, until he really gets to where he's assigned.
Inevitably, all that discussion about 'every Singaporean son's rite of passage' led me to reflect, once again (I know, I know), on my personal experiences with NS, and I feel that it's high time I shared about why as of late, they have left me so jaded.
Recalling a conversation with one very lucky friend of mine a couple nights ago, I couldn't help but envy how he could so casually say that he didn't regret a single thing that's happened to him/that he's done in his stint with NS, as if it was a state which just naturally and eagerly embraced him like a warm blanket. Because I felt like there was so much to regret. And because I felt like all of that regret was just growing and burgeoning within me, threatening to burst open my lungs and my heart and my brain and just... everything I am.
It doesn't help at all that I'm still booking in to camp and staying in every week, and these three months leading to ORD have never felt longer. Right now, everyone there just reminds me of how unhappy and unfulfilled I am with my journey this year. I wish all of us remained together during the times we didn't. I wish I was with them on the trips they went for without me. I wish I was given more experiences to grow myself and to learn. I wish I wasn't so invisible. And most importantly, I wish to finally come to terms with this state of affairs I'm in eventually, no matter how long it takes, because there's no longer anything I can do to change it.
It's so difficult being the one who stays; the one who's always left behind. Sure, for the one who packs his bags and leaves, he gets whisked away into somewhere foreign, where at that point in time, he won't be able say for sure if he's going to thrive or not. However, the uncertainty felt, as much as it can prove to be stifling, is also a platform for growth. Good or bad, it signifies change and a possibility for progress. As for the one who gets left behind, though, it's a different story – and for me, it was, more often than not, one of mind-numbing waiting and stagnancy. Waiting alone also adds a whole new dimension to that particular situation, because one can be sure that nobody else will be able to fully empathise and understand.
I'm telling myself that it's okay to keep asking myself 'why' without being able to do anything about what's bothering me. It's okay, because I need to get these sentiments out of my system once and for all, and so that I can finally seek closure, or at least a semblance of it. It's okay, because I need to start building up my self-esteem which has, over the past few weeks, been debilitating at a disturbing rate (and it's not like it was good to begin with).
In a few years' time, I'll most probably look back at this entry, appalled at how immature and single-minded I was. "Because tigers don't lose sleep over the opinion of sheep," they would say. And honestly, they're right. Even now, I'm bending wholeheartedly to the will of an organisation who will never truly know my worth, and I personally find that pretty laughable. But in time, I believe I'll come to accept the fact that things happened the way they did, and as for what time can't solve, I will solve myself, with my own two hands, my own two feet, and my own beating heart.
Reflecting upon all this, the blood courses through my veins especially fast. I'm only a few months of agonising patience away from finally beginning again, and I'm helplessly overcome both by fear and anticipation. In all honesty, I don't know what will become of me at all, but there's not a choice. I have to move forward, and I have to try my best and carve out hope and possibility for myself, after learning that I should never depend on another to do it.
And to everyone who has never stopped believing in who I can possibly be and where I can possibly go, thank you. You'll never know how much that means to me.
Recalling a conversation with one very lucky friend of mine a couple nights ago, I couldn't help but envy how he could so casually say that he didn't regret a single thing that's happened to him/that he's done in his stint with NS, as if it was a state which just naturally and eagerly embraced him like a warm blanket. Because I felt like there was so much to regret. And because I felt like all of that regret was just growing and burgeoning within me, threatening to burst open my lungs and my heart and my brain and just... everything I am.
It doesn't help at all that I'm still booking in to camp and staying in every week, and these three months leading to ORD have never felt longer. Right now, everyone there just reminds me of how unhappy and unfulfilled I am with my journey this year. I wish all of us remained together during the times we didn't. I wish I was with them on the trips they went for without me. I wish I was given more experiences to grow myself and to learn. I wish I wasn't so invisible. And most importantly, I wish to finally come to terms with this state of affairs I'm in eventually, no matter how long it takes, because there's no longer anything I can do to change it.
It's so difficult being the one who stays; the one who's always left behind. Sure, for the one who packs his bags and leaves, he gets whisked away into somewhere foreign, where at that point in time, he won't be able say for sure if he's going to thrive or not. However, the uncertainty felt, as much as it can prove to be stifling, is also a platform for growth. Good or bad, it signifies change and a possibility for progress. As for the one who gets left behind, though, it's a different story – and for me, it was, more often than not, one of mind-numbing waiting and stagnancy. Waiting alone also adds a whole new dimension to that particular situation, because one can be sure that nobody else will be able to fully empathise and understand.
I'm telling myself that it's okay to keep asking myself 'why' without being able to do anything about what's bothering me. It's okay, because I need to get these sentiments out of my system once and for all, and so that I can finally seek closure, or at least a semblance of it. It's okay, because I need to start building up my self-esteem which has, over the past few weeks, been debilitating at a disturbing rate (and it's not like it was good to begin with).
In a few years' time, I'll most probably look back at this entry, appalled at how immature and single-minded I was. "Because tigers don't lose sleep over the opinion of sheep," they would say. And honestly, they're right. Even now, I'm bending wholeheartedly to the will of an organisation who will never truly know my worth, and I personally find that pretty laughable. But in time, I believe I'll come to accept the fact that things happened the way they did, and as for what time can't solve, I will solve myself, with my own two hands, my own two feet, and my own beating heart.
Reflecting upon all this, the blood courses through my veins especially fast. I'm only a few months of agonising patience away from finally beginning again, and I'm helplessly overcome both by fear and anticipation. In all honesty, I don't know what will become of me at all, but there's not a choice. I have to move forward, and I have to try my best and carve out hope and possibility for myself, after learning that I should never depend on another to do it.
And to everyone who has never stopped believing in who I can possibly be and where I can possibly go, thank you. You'll never know how much that means to me.
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