Three Words

Guillotine

Guillotine
Part 1

My Love was lost many years ago, but why must I have the same warm feeling when I'm with you?

I've always wondered ever since I went to my first art exhibition, what could an artist possibly be thinking whilst working on their own masterpieces.  Love? Depression? Sex...? , none of those thoughts come across my mind when I see art, its perfection, technique that's what's important.
Ugh..! , My name is Keita Akiyama, Twenty one Years old. Third year in one of the most elite art colleges in Tokyo, Aoj College of Arts. I'm currently repeating my third year in this cruddy school.

And here's my back story why

About two years ago in early May my aunt Aika Fujiwara passed away in an accident, she was taking a train from our hometown of Yokohama to see me in Shibuya. Unfortunately the train ran off the tracks and tipped completely over at Kawasaki.

"Killed 34 people and 58 injured and sadly she was one of them".

Aika played a major role in my life; ever since my parents died when I was six she took me in and raised me in her small condo. After eleven years staying with her I moved to Tokyo to find a better school for my work as an art student.

Eventually after her death day after day I started drinking and going out every night, I always seem waking up in weird places, Love Hotels, in allies on the street and in random houses all around the city.  This lead me to missing my classes and failing most of them. So I had to repeat first year, eventually I had to repeat second year as well.

I'm sorry Aika, Mum and Dad I bet you're looking down at me in disappointment.

I can't believe I'm still here after five years trying to get my degree, people usually ask me why don't I just quit college and just work a normal business job, find a girl an settle down.

Well I don't know why I still want to continue, but I'm tired and sick of feeling like I can't do something that anyone is capable of doing.

"Mr Akiyama! Pay attention please"

'Pfft or what you'll make me repeat another year' I think to myself.

I really want to be a professional artist but if I had to repeat third year I'm sure I'd quit.

As the teacher continues on her lecture I stare out the window, to see the small park next to the school.
I think; when the hell am I gonna get out of here and actually do something with my life,
Heh it's not like I had never thought of that:

It's rather quiet today in class and in the park too there are usually so many people around, I wonder if the park will be bare once I finish class, I can have lunch there and head to work after.

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Hi guys Writer here-
thank you for reading my chapter of ThreeWords
Sorry if it was somewhat short that's all I could write and am currently working on part 2 of this chapter
Again if any requests towards this story I'm totally open to new ideas but anyway thank you so much guys love you lots ❤️
Total word count 552