The First

by Chua Han Au

I was expecting this day with fervency. The foreign yet homely sight of traffic lights was unusually warm. Civilisation and people donned in range of colours acted as a remedy to the otherwise rather uniformed lifestyle. Echoes and repeated militarised cheers of “First book-out!” exploded like mines in the ferry, with smiles indicating a sort of indescribable gratification. We’re green pixelised individuals settled comfortably in the ferry – like parakeets awaiting the release of gates announcing liberty.

The past few days were indisputably enervating – the sweltering sun coupled with sparse clouds and the rigorous trainings had us at our weakest. We only regenerate with nutritious meals and refreshing swimming lessons. Mornings fissure with a sort of dreadful disposition and days end without vitality. I have become tanner, and my hair is once again back to the symbolic length implying my military stint.

The morning today was however remarkably magnificent — the sleek streaks of sunlight were utterly complementary to the clouds that were in perfect symmetry. They were spaced like soldiers in fine files, stationary and dutiful. Every morning, the trees are washed with dew and the ground exhales in heated breaths.

In the slightest of revelations, this seemingly dehumanising environment is for growth. And so to embrace and maximise we shall, always be thankful and pursue betterment — for the more we perspire in trainings, the less we bleed in battle.

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