160 days is a long time

I never thought I will (want to) get here. It took a bit of time. Honestly, 160 days does not seem like such a long time. And it also does not seem like that many things have happened within this not-very-long period of time, because the events can be adequately summarised in a phrase or two. But then the weight and depth of the experiences that I have encountered make the 160 days seem so much longer, and they defy my will to summarise them or encapsulate them in a mere handful of words. They are expressed in rather more words, words that thankfully have been preserved owing to my WC’s insistent pursuit of journals and reflections.

Then the five-and-a-half days before Lancer complicated things. It gave me too much time away from army. It was too much free time that compounded the sense of emptiness that I had been feeling since I stepped down. It gave me a chance to take stock of PT and ponder about how things have changed since ST. Many things have changed. People have left, new people have appeared, roles and responsibilities have increased and transformed themselves. Then Lancer confirmed many of those uncertainties, worries, freak emotions and tiresome knots that strangle the heart and draw out passions and memories of another time.

Maybe I know better now, after Lancer, that angels do not fall from the sky and fly to me. I should have known better earlier than to hope for the angel. I do not think I can deal with it myself, but then I guess I probably have to learn to deal with it myself. The best way is to let events and responsibilities drag you with a camou-green noose on and on past the tunnel. Scenery becomes blurred, life becomes transient, meaning becomes subsidiary, memory becomes temporary. I try not to look ahead too much now – looking ahead distracts. I must try not to look back too much too. Looking back breaks my heart and will.

I should never have reached out for the angel.