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.