Entry originally written 15th of February, at the civilarmy camp.
"What am I doing with my life?" A question like this is the consequence of ending a conversation with a complete stranger when you’ve just learned that he was evicted from the military because he was too violent. A question like this is the consequence of finding yourself in the middle of nowhere, with dark woods all around the building which you are confined to, dark woods with unknown beasts and unmentionable perils.
I am asking myself questions of this nature because my situation seems unbelievable to me, trapped inside what reminds me of a mental institution, drinking free coffe while listening to how the other men in the same situation are playing tabletennis in the room next door. Men I will have to sleep in the same room with the two coming nights, men I know nothing of, except for the one who was too brutal to be allowed to serve in an international anti-terror military taskforce.
It occours to me that I – in the next couple of days, unless someone should take pity in me and kill me while I’m asleep – am in hell. "What is hell, then?" you ask, since I seem to know so much about it. Hell is repetition, and waiting in endless hours for the inevitable. Hell is knowing that you will wake up along with strangers thatn, for all you know, are in an even worse state of mental health than yourself. Hell is knowing that the same alarm used to send troops of soldiers into war and warn civilians of attacks from the air will wake you up the coming morning. Hell is being so hungry that you fantasize about sinking your teeth into the very same couch you’re sitting on, knowing too well that there is a vendor machine in the next room, but you have no coins to operate it with.
Hell is knowing yourself so damn good that you are completely aware of the situation you find yourself in, and that it really isn’t such a gruesome one, you’ve just decided to make it so. Hell is listening to painfully boring lifestories, stories which necessarily lacks a point, while you’re yearning so much for that cold beer you can’t have, that you feel the refreshing dew in your palms. Yes. Hell is here.
Apart from that, I’m doing just fine. Apart from that, I’m glad to know that this is only two short days of my life. Two days? What if I die at the end of the 2nd? Then I will go to heaven, for hell does not accept multiple offenders. If my heart should stop, my that only be a mere thought as long as I’m stuck here, it will become the point of my lifestory; underlining the reasons why life is meaningless, underlining that I – as I always used to be – was right.
I seek not to harvest your sympathy, as I am already doomed, but to inform you that you have no reason of being unhappy, of feeling miserable. I am living proof of this, and my current situation is my evidence.
Hence, be happy.
Later on, I added this, after overhearing another "entertaining" conversation:
Just a short example of what I’ve been going through, Nearly all conversations revolved around the following four topics: a)the army and sharing experiences from the time the story-teller served it, b)masturbation, c)the latest Ford model and d)hi-fi stereos. At worst I would here about some ex-military sharing his experience of masturbating on his hi-fi stereo in his friend’s brand new Ford. At best I could amuse myself by listening to two nerds arguing for and against Windows OS and Linux, and wether .gif is pronounced ‘jif’ or ‘gif’.