Usually when I write, I don’t like mentioning stuff I don’t like. Sad happenings, grief and sorrow..because that’s not how I want my life to be. I don’t want to open my diary or my blog 10 years from now and remember unwanted things. I just want happiness. But I guess, that isn’t possible.
2 months and 11 days of national service, it’s not something I’d be proud of. It’s something hard for me to believe. No, time didn’t fly when I was there. In fact, it seemed to freeze. And no, I’m not sad it’s over. So what exactly is the
unbelievable part? That I’ve gone through it. Even though I hate it up to this day, there were still happy moments. I’ve made great friends, done stupid things, and knew myself more than ever. That’s about it.
Life was
far from normal when I was there. A forced life. But then, there were HABITS I couldn’t get rid of. I was the earliest one to wake up in my room everyday. I couldn’t survive without coke and chocolate. My friends would cringe when they saw me drinking coke first thing every morning πŸ˜› I was still picky about food, skipping dinner everyday, but not as picky as I used to
be. I’m starting to appreciate food at home. I used to stare at the kitchen cabinet for 5 minutes, trying to find something I could eat before stamping my foot in frustration saying there’s no food even though the cabinet’s full πŸ˜› I still didn’t like taking a nap in the afternoon. When the others were sleeping, I’d usually do my chores, read a book or write in my diary. I still didn’t like watching tv. And that’s the reason why I never watched tv in the tv room up to the last day. I was still a
klutz. Rushing and tripping when i shouldn’t be. But the one thing I don’t get until now is how a perfectionist I was during my stay there. I’d make sure my locker and my bed were tidy-even the pillow must be at the exact position everytime I left the room. I’d complete my chores everyday, no matter how tired I was. Compared to when I’m at home…well, let’s just say my sister complained yesterday that the desk’ll be messy again since i’m home.
And there’re things I
won’t forget. Like crying because there’s no water. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a crybaby. It was just after jungle trekking. We were in the jungle for 8 hours and when I got back I was exhausted and looking forward to a good long bath. So when there’s no water, I just bursted into tears. And my friends were so helpful. They were like,’Don’t cry.Use my toilet. There’s water here,’. Haha. Not long after that, Izzati cried because Pija didn’t tell her she
has pens. She was asking everywhere for a pen and nobody had it. When Pija finally told her she had them, she cried. Ha! So much for criticising me for crying because there wasn’t any water! I’d think my reason’s a lot more relevant. But I guess, we’re just
stressed out.
Tomorrow. I can’t say I’m nervous, because i’m not. Not yet anyway. But deep down, I’m scared.
Scared of what I’ll get, scared of letting people down, scared of my future. Because after this, I’ll have to make important decisions by myself. Something I’ve always been avoiding. People say we are never alone. That we have our friends and family with us all the time. A true fact. And yet? It’s NOT the genuine truth. There’re
things you have to do alone. There’re times when you feel alone, even when you’re surrounded by friends. A feeling nobody could touch. That’s what I’m scared of. During these past few days, I’ve been trying to prepare myself mentally so that I won’t cry no matter what my results are. But I know it won’t work. It never did. I just want to be strong. Because what I’m going to what I’d worked for. So I don’t think complaining and worrying is the thing here. If there is an entry posted tomorrow, then I’ve done WELL. If there isn’t, well, you got my message πŸ™‚ Wish me luck.