Change irritates me sometimes.

When the waves come, the crab digs deep into the sand, hidnig in his shell.


I wonder why some warrants need to abuse their rank to try to "instil" discipline into nsfs. Discipline is something that is taught through morales, and get this through your damn thick skull... MORALES CANNOT BE TAUGHT THROUGH FEAR. Fear breeds temporary compliance, but it also breeds annoyance, hate, anger.

I hate it when people continue to use their backward, outdated method of teaching. Last time you could talk down at people because they were uneducated. Nowadays, that has changed. And those few officers who are higher educated and got their mscs, talk in a different manner.

Not that anyone's pissed me off, lately. But when I hear of people giving my friend's unfair punishments, I get angry.

And lately, I seem to have alot of fire that I cannot let out.



Running helps. You can run and run, run away from it, or charge straight at it, fearless, unintimidated, enraged.

I keep telling myself that I've grown up. That that rage inside me was but a childish phase of arrogance and naive thinking. But today when I looked into the mirror I saw his eyes again.

I had forgotten how good it felt to feel it pulse through my veins. Anger feeds on anger, and it likes it.

Maybe I do need to get back into competitive sparring.

Once a fighter, always a fighter. Nothing will give you the same rush. The same high. You don't care about the sore shins and bruised arms. You don't care about what would happen to him, or what would happen to you.

Maybe its slowly been bugging me that I've controlled myself to stay under the limit for so long. But its there, staring at me, provoking me.

I've been a gentleman for long enough, and a part of me hates it.


Maybe some things can never be put down in words.