Jodoh, oh jodoh...

I cried for a full hour last night after a flat-out realization of my incapability to love. I claim I can love when really, I'm all out of love. What made me cry was a sequent of activities revolving the potrayal and depiction of love. It was purely coincidental. I watched the Notebook, read some of Ovid's love poem and received and SMS from my girlfriend of two years. The first two thing I did made me cry like a nancy and the text message put me off just like THAT.

I curled in my bed and thought of business ideas to put my mind off love. Money outranks love anytime, or so I thought. The more I tried to persuade myself that love is destined, its a fitrah, jodoh ditentukan tuhan, more tears drizzled along the crevices of my cheeks, joining the accidental tear brought by the movie and poems.

It was a miserable night, last night.

I will wait for my true love, love, love, it may even be my girlfriend for time too is an agent of love. Love can trascends so far from my love of my mother, father and brothers but it seems that real love will seek me, not the other way around.

Muse, wreathe your golden tresses
With myrtle of the sea,
And in eleven stresses
Compose our poetry.

Insya Allah.