my art teacher ♥️ 🖌 💦

Like all the other students in the room, I didn't care at all about the art you taught... In fact, my art was to humiliate you in every way possible for the class. It was never a personal problem, you know? However, it is also not a common problem - Like everyone else has with the subject in this class. I care about art, but you... Are the type of person who irritates me the most. You're not teaching because you like it, you're an art teacher because you never made an effort to be what you really wanted. A lawyer? A doctor? I don't know, but your style was never of a teacher, one who teaches and learns from others... One who turns the system into a factory of knowledge. You are bitter. You just want to dominate... But if it depends on me you'll never be able to.
It was the day of the presentation of individual work and you had chosen mine on Fauvism. I copied and pasted it from the internet, printed it on paper and presented it reading as "who don't give a fuck"
- And the painting, did you do it?
- No sir
- Right
You didn't question my work and the absence of the painting... You didn't give me the opportunity to make any jokes with you. I was surprised, but as soon as the presentations were over and the group was leaving, you asked me to stay.
- Do you know why I chose this job for you, miss? - You asked.
- Because you wanted to masturbate while the students were doing their work? - I teased, but unlike the other times when you kept a frown, you smiled.
You asked me to sit on the chair and while you painted me, you said:
- Because you, like in this art, are pure and intense... And that's all everyone wants in life. A light, gentle life. Because "Do you want something? You can do it... You just have to want it, right? There are no problems"
- No - I said angrily - In life we have problems, but we need to go through them. If you didn't make it, it's not my problem, loser.
- You answer me so simply. Wants to convey a feeling of depth, but still can't match reality. Makes wrong judgments about people.
- You mean... About yourself? - I asked, but you continued and you were getting scarier and scarier.
- I am the fruit of your impulsiveness - and so, you finished painting - Do you want to see? - And turned the painting over.
- What is that ?!
It was as if it wasn't even the trigger, you had already exploded, you were just... Controlling your primitive, your savagery. In the painting I was naked, in a shameful position, panting scared, my white skin covered in hickeys and bruises, purple and white paint or it was... Cum? It was me, but it wasn't me. The realism of that painting!
- But that's not me!
- It will be.