Chef Neil

There's this guy. Piercings and tattoos everywhere. Rap and metal is his kind of genre. Smokes packs and drinks cups of coffee everyday. Liquor is his kind of night but what he does doesn't define the kind of person he is; it doesnt define his heart from the way my eyes had knew him.

He loves to play with the spices thus creates magic through the taste and aroma he makes. He holds the knife to make the perfect slices, too precise to fit on the pearl of white plate to be served on hungry tongues. He is the master chef. Cooks for everyone who wants to replace their frowns in an opposite diameter.

Metal is sometimes changed with strumming and humming. Lullabies caught him. Soft, sweet and gentle sound that flows in his voice box, melodies of past, present and the undetermined future. He never showed anyone this side of the story, he never sought attention; he loves what the audience assume of what he is: metal, the genre which releases stress as he described.

Judgement is his enemy. But these enemies won't stand the way he carries his self, because he believes in the power of love. Love had disappointed him a hundred of times, even pulled him in circumstances that where close to threaten his life, but he never gave up on love. And there he goes, still proving the world that love is something worth fighting for. But he's fighting for something that he can't have. Maybe next time. Sorry, but there's no "us" and there will never be even in the future.

What am I doing

What am i doing with life right now?

Where am i?

Where am i supposed to be?

What should i be doing?

Whom should i be with?

When will i see the shiniest part of the world?

It's quite a blur. Everything seems unfamiliar. It's like running through a forest without a map or a compass, no direction perhaps. Maybe there would be days that are just a phase in the what so called life, and maybe there would come a time where in the questions would be answered.