No title as of now.

While reading this article (http://blogs.straitstimes.com/2010/5/9/a-mother-s-love) I had a sudden inclination to post.

What if I were the child with muscular dystrophy? Everyday there is this person in your life who refuses to give up, someone who is always there even when both of you are so tired; tired of waking up to a world which seems so hopeless, a world that revolves without bringing you with it, a world that is only you and me. The bleak future brings tears to my eyes. My first thought is suicide. To break up this routine that never seems to end, till death do us part.

He sees her unimaginable love in the simple action of holding his hands and cleaning them. She never thinks of her love as something noble. He loves her, and it pains him to see how much she is going through. Perhaps his hope is to become stronger one day, and be the caregiver instead, and yet, he could be hoping that the ordeal will be over soon through an alternative, ominous manner instead, to put out the suffering altogether. It pains her to see him in a bedridden state, and yet the glow in his eyes never die out, and that gives her strength. Love holds us together, but breaks us up too. The parent's unyielding love for her son.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? I am astounded that this is widely endorsed.

~

In a less morbid tone, I am most displeased to announce that three of our commanders have been ordered to take up position at other training grounds. Is this really a wise decision?