The Day I Met Love
Somehow life has always find its way to push me to the edge when it comes to find love. No, just do not get me wrong, I am the kind of girl who likes to spend time alone, who walks whenever and wherever she wants to go, as long as she has strong healthy feet and bills in her pocket to hail a cab when she is tired. "Independent" is an adjective to describe me, even though people might not agree.
I'd prefer to do things alone because I am the girl who arrives at 5.55 when the party starts at 6, I am the girl who does not like to wait, that's why I hate it when my girlfriends take too much time for hair and make-up before we are leaving from home.
But how dare love to keep me waiting.
The first time I will see you, Love, before we make love to each other, I will put a hard slap across your face and asked, "where the hell have you been?" (And proceed to the heavy hot love-making)
Where have you been when I have to defend my ideology and faith of love? Where were you when I turn so bitter, when I learnt that people marry for other reasons than love?
There are golden throne, bride and grooms dressed in finest silk, long table buffet, and distant relatives being nice to each other, do you call that love?
There is big diamond on the young bride's finger and much mature groom who tries to conceal tired look in his eyes to make this picture perfect moment happens. He has been bending over his working table to provide for his two children, one who stands next to him and one inside her swollen belly.
Dear Love, leave me a peck on this forehead because it feels hot now. It is hard to feel emphaty when people define love otherwise than love itself. I hate it when people materialize love as time--it shouldn't be when are you going to marry?Or as a possession--how much wealth does his/her family own? Will you still be working then?
I hold my silent cry every time the question is fired. There is a bullet hole in my chest and somehow life has been keeping me estranged with my definition of love which is... innocent.
Love is my man. Love is the smell of September and autumn leaves. Love is almost like a playdate, and you do not find any reason to justify why are you falling in love and who you choose to be with. God, just keep love as blind as it is to us.
So, I slap Love on more time across his left cheek and I say, "Go ahead you might want to slap me too. I spend most of my time alone in my bed watching TV or probably writing the greatest advertising campaign ever."
But instead, he proceeds to kiss me on one cheek and the other.