At this point in time, I'm sitting in the patient's lounge in the hospital, wondering about the weird, illogical turn of events that got me here. The people around me are severely sick. I feel a little bit of guilt for pushing up the demand for hospital beds, making the stay a little more expensive for these people who really need help.

Flashback to three weeks back. I was reciting the ever important SAF eight core values and gulping down half a litre of water, thinking about how incredibly ingenious this process is.

And then, a sudden thought popped up in my head.

Actually it's pretty easy to get out of all these. All I have to do is buy a plane ticket and never come back.

Enthusiastically, I went to research more on my phone after the grandiose last parade.

As it turned out:

The Cost: Never return to Singapore ever again (Not even in transit) which indirectly leads to:

1. Loss of contact of most friends

2. Greater difficulty in meeting my family

3. Some degree of risk for me if my determination to not return weakens at any point in the rest of my life

The Benefit:

1. Freedom: Freedom to think, Freedom to move around whereever I wish (except to SG ofcos) whenever I want, Freedom to explore this amazing world

2. One year and Five months of opportunity cost regained

3. A chance to start afresh, to escape from the burden of my identity, to escape from the stifling environment of Singapore, to be myself, my happy self finally

Well. I would say both sides of the argument were equally convincing. This made the thinking game a little harder. For the next week, at every moment, my mind was thinking about the same question: To go or not to go?

The friction between the two sides of my mind got greater and greater, making the pain more and more unbearable. I hated it when someone around me showed me some bit of kindness as it made me think of the betrayal I might possibly do in the near future.

The other side of my mind would try to debate that I didn't choose to be here in this claustrophobic organization in the first place. I was forced to be here! So why should I be guilty of anything?

And then, all of a sudden, I was sick one day. An extremely severe diarrhea that made me feel like as if I had shitted my hearts and lungs out.

Great! I thought. Here's to a few days of MC for me to stay at home and think about the great question that concerns the long 'rest of my life' ahead.

So for a few long days I had the luxury to think carefully and slowly without being disturbed by intervals of push ups, marching and shouting.

To go or not to go? To go or not to go? To go or not to go?...

Those few days of 'relaxation' at home felt like a great torture. My stomach rumbled like a thunderstorm while my mind wrecked up like the furious ocean waves.

Fuck it. I'm going to buy the ticket.

And so I did.

Morning ticket. Leaving for HK on 0155, Sunday. Reaching HK on 0600, Sunday.

That fateful day came. However, I unfortunately chose to abandon my plan as my dad was back the night before and it didn't seem like a safe time to go. Furthermore, doubts about the rationality of such a decision floated in, together with groaning from my stomach.

S$158 gone down into drain. Sighs.

After such a 'huge' loss, I decided that perhaps I was destined to stay here and quietly complete my 2 years of 'service'.

Another few days passed. I had went back to camp and be my 'good soldier'. The thought of leaving flashed back and forth which really irritated me.

I needed to do something about this. So on the fateful Vesak day when I booked out, I thought maybe my mind required some adventure to quieten down.

I packed my bags and left for the airport. It will be just another game I thought. I will pretend that I'm leaving and enjoy the rush of adrenaline.

Unfortunately I had already booked my ticket before I left. The temptation of freedom is too much to hold.

I walk to the check in counter. Scanned my passport. Got my boarding pass. Walked to the departure gate.

"Where are you going?" The immigration officer asked.

"Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam."

"Alone?"

"Yeah..."

"Holiday?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. Have fun!"

"Thanks!" I smiled gingerly.

Then, I took big steps to the baggage counter. I deposited my bag, took out my phone and laptop, walked through the metal detector.

Then, I scanned my passport at the self check in counter, scanned my fingerprint, walked through the electronic gate...

Here I am at the departure hall! I am leaving!

I still have a chance to go back if I want to. But will I? Definitely not! I am never going to wear green again!

You may ask why did I choose to go Ho Chi Minh City out of all places.

For me, Ho Chi Minh City is my symbol of freedom and happiness. It's the first place I had travelled to alone, where I met amazing people who inspired me to live happily.

Off I go. Soon enough I was on the plane, waiting for it to take flight.

At the moment it left the ground, I felt like my whole past had just faded away. The scenes of my friends, my family, all the crazy and stupid things I have done, my teachers played in my mind like a movie. The great lost made me feel quite immensely sad.

However at the same time, I was incredibly excited for the future. My identity had just been wiped off into a blank slate. I felt like a great adventure wss about to start. A life as intriguing as it is in the biographies and the movies.

8pm Vietnam time. I reached Vietnam. It's about the time they realised that I had gone awol.

I messaged my dad my location and proceeded straight to the city centre.

Somehow I found a free shuttle bus that brought me to Benh Tanh Market all the way from the airport despite my utter incomprehension of Vietnamese.

Let the adventures begin! I took a Grabbike to the wonderful hostel I had stayed at the last time I visited: Hewahome! Before I checked in, I had a dinner of fried char siew rice as I was totally famished.

It's not like I chose the dish actually since I can't read the menu. I just pointed to this random line of Vietnamese words on the menu after seeing that it's of the lowest price.

For the drink, I had this green, vegetable-tasting drink which I had no idea what it's made of. All I know it's pretty damn good and most importantly cheap!

Anyway, I spent a total of 50 000 dong (3 SGD) for my dinner.

And then I went to my hostel, Hewahome. Actually despite having stayed there for a week or so the last time I traveled, I was still a total failure in finding the exact location of the hostel. It's only after some asking around and pointing around from the locals that I found my home for the night.

Greeting me was my wonderful Sikh old friend. He had been staying in Vietnam for more than a year running his little hostel. He had come all the way from India.

He was a little surprised that I was back.

"You sure like Vietnam don't you?" He asked.

"Yes definitely!" I smiled. This was the first time I felt relieved after my escape as if I was finally where I was supposed to be all along.

"Which room do you want?" He asked.

"I want to room with AC." I replied.

The hostel actually had two rooms. One with aircon and one without. A stay in Hewahome is actually really cheap. Just 75000 dong (SGD 4.50) for a night with free aircon, laundry, breakfast and most importantly new friends.

At my room, there were already two British guys and two Americans staying in it. It turned out that those two Brits were actually born in the same year as me (1998). I had a short conversation with one of the two Brit guys when the rest of them were out. During which, I told him my story.

Even I myself found it quite unbelievable. Can you imagine some random guy you met at a hostel telling you that he had just awolled on the day itself?

"That's really courageous of you!" He said.

"Really? I thought it was quite a dumb decision." I replied.

Deep in my heart I knew, whether my act of impulse was brave or stupid depended entirely on the outcome. If I unfortunately would decide to go back to my little island, I would have made the most retarded decision in the world.

Anyway, talking to people calmed me down. To my British friend it seemed, I had made an entirely rational decision. He was utterly surprised when I mentioned that we have to serve 2 years of national service or risk getting fucked by our wonderful government.

That same night, I went up to the balcony of the hostel. It was the place where I had talked to a friend, Finley, the last time I came here. I remembered him telling me that if his country ever forced him into the military, he would protest and let them slaughter him.

Oh well. Perhaps I'm quite normal. Or perhaps these people from these less tyrannical countries don't understand.

Staring at the dark and quiet alley from the balcony, I thought that since I escaped I would definitely never go back. I would make the most of the freedom and make a name for myself.

They said migrants often become the change-makers and millionaires of our societies. Now I understood why.

When you migrate and leave every comfort you have behind, you end up with nothing to lose. You become much more courageous, much more willing to try and learn new things because the situation forces you to do just that. You will stay optimistic and learn to manage the various tests of life that come to you as deep shocks or surprises.

I went to bed that night smiling despite the fact that it was much harder and less comfortable than the one I had in bunk. I knew a great adventure had just started.

The next day. I had breakfast with my newly-made Brit friends, sharing with them more about my story. Soon they departed for their next destination, Cambodia.

I thought about myself. I had no destination to go. I came here not for leisure but for an escape. I came here for a mission to be free. This was the first time I went overseas not for the sight and sounds, but purely for the contemplation of my situation and the search for my self.

I went to the post office and bought a new sim card. I planned to contact my dad for him to pass me my China passport (I have dual citizenship currently).

Surprisingly, at the post office, I received a message from my brother that my dad had already arrived in Vietnam. I immediately called him to report to him my location and arranged for a meet up.

We met at a cafe. He bought a bowl of noodles and iced coffee while I just had iced coffee.

Vietnamese coffee is really bitter. The dark liquid blends well with the numbing cold ice. My mind trembled with every sip of the chilly caffeine.

"I left for freedom." This sentence summarized all I had to say.

Why do I deserve to serve? What do I owe this country?

12 years of world-class education? Really?

If that's the case, why did I hate every moment in our dreary and purposeless schools?

Did I even had a choice to say no to my 'beloved' Singapore before I hit twelve?

Did anybody even tell the little kid I was that the grave decision, which I didn't choose to make, will take away two of my most golden years?

And why do girls not need to serve?

Aren't they beneficiaries of our wonderful system too?

I hate Singapore.

Every moment. Every second.

A spiritless and lifeless technocracy. A smooth and well-oiled machine. It churns out babies for the sake of future factors of production. It blurts out passionless propaganda for the sake of our so-called 'heartware' to keep our corporation running 'strong'.

Unfortunately, it is decided by our ever-ingenious leaders that for the sake of our survival, all boys have to spend two years holding a gun to defend our land. All boys have to give up themselves and become fighting slaves for our country.

I left to escape from this terrible regime, this state of half-living. I left to pursuit for my own happiness.

Cries, tears, begs. My family were almost down on their knees for me to stay.

My heart was razed with pain if it even still exist.

Curiously, I didn't shed a tear. Perhaps it was so cold that my tear glands had frozen.

I won't go. I won't go. I won't go. I won't go...

Self over all... Self over all!

In the end, it seemed like my heart was not as cold as I think it was.

I didn't want to come back. But somehow the ticket was bought. Somehow I walked to the departure hall. Somehow I scanned my passport.

Just like somehow I left in the first place.

Maybe life isn't rational. Maybe it is meant to be full of bewildering choices that don't make sense.

A devastating fear consumed me. I was speechless on the plane back home, on the taxi back to camp and on my way to the coy line.

I have never felt such fear before. Never.

It was as if Death grabbed me by my collar and screamed in joy.

The seconds felt like years.

I felt like I became five years old again, so timid that I had to hide under the protection of my dad.

Back at the coy line, I looked straight ahead. Afraid to look at the people around me. Afraid to look at the souls I had betrayed.

My father went into the office and talked to my OC while I waited outside on the sofa quietly, shivering, praying.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

My heart screamed for help. For God to alleviate me from my suffering, from my fear.

The people, the movies, the adventures, the memories. Everything played in my head like a reel of film.

After the talk with my dad, the OC drove us out to dinner at McDonald's. It was the first time I had entered this establishment after more than a year. I grazed on the burgers and the fries tastelessly, trying to distract my mind from the incomprehensible shock.

We finished our dinner.

The car drove back to the coy line.

All of a sudden, all of my fear was gone. Everything that had happened seemed so logical that I took the whole situation in the most matter-of-fact manner possible.

I went into the office. Talked to the OC what happened as honestly and as detailed as possible without showing a sign of fear.

It turned out that he was quite a nice and understanding guy and I quite enjoyed the hour-long conversation.

That night, I slept in the office with all fear alleviated. The punishment to me just seemed like another due procedure.

The next day morning, I had breakfast alone with a sergeant. I spoke openly and freely.

And then I met all of my friends. I told them what had happened as if it was just another particularly fascinating story. I was happy to see all of them again.

It was as if my soul had just been freed. I had no fear for any of the sergeants anymore. It was as if the rank had just miraculously disappeared. It was as if we were only just humans.

And then I went to the medical officer. He directed me to go the hospital to get my brain checked.

And here I am.