I can't take it anymore, I'll have to blog.

Because, chances are that you won't see me in the course of the next three months.

Chances are that I'll have to apologise to Mme Fabienne Ricordel for not being able to participate in this year's activities.

Chances are that I may not be able to even apologise to her.

Hope that I may return home alive.

Hope that within the course of the next three months, I may survive.

Because there's no way out. Deferring will not solve the issue. Better three months than two years.

I have to go for National Service.

I received a notification from the Ministry of Defence and I have to reply by the end of this month. They have posted me in Miri - all the way in some remote place in Sarawak - but dad and Narin are trying their hardest to push me to a nearer camp in Peninsular Malaysia so that they may visit me every week. Preferrably Selangor.

I've made a checklist of what I have to bring for the 16th of June (that'll be the date when candidates will be picked up from their respective checkpoints and transported to their camps). I'll have to find a way to get out early, though, because I can't afford to miss mom's death anniversary, which falls on the 27th of August.

Even my mom didn't want me to go.

I definitely don't want to go. I'd be spending enough time planning for the Fête de la Musique, and doing lots of other things to touch people's hearts, rather than spending three months away from home.

There have been twenty-five recorded deaths throughout the progress of National Service - but chances are, the figures might be higher. My friend's brother went insane after attending National Service. Many people like it, but many people hate it too and want it abolished. As for me, I'll see for myself. In the course of those three months (I pray God, please preserve me and help me go on), I'll be chronicling everything that takes place in an empty journal, and all the posts will be transferred onto the blog if I return.

For all those of you who have a faith, pray. NOW. Pray that everything goes well, please. I'm one of the weak ones, and I can't afford to think of dying. Dad can't afford to lose me. Please pray for me. Pray that my session - and the sessions of your friends who are attending NS - will not be as extreme as what quite a substantial number of people have been through.