There is never anything better than having a calm mind. I often forget that I have that because the only thing I usually think about is things that don't worry me, that are trivial to everyone, and that never weigh anything on my head. But my best friend was a reason weight to be with something on all the time. And I took it off all at once fixing things.

Since last week, I feel better about myself. I don't have the feeling that I'm doing something wrong, nor that feeling of guilt that I constantly had. I didn't realize it, but there it was. It was enough hugging Tay was enough to make me feel good.

I stayed at his house until dinner time. I didn't want to see his parents yet, although mine knew we had fallen out, I didn't feel like seeing his again and having to provide an explanation. So, I was keeping him company all that time, regretting all those fucking blows and being so miserable with him. But, as strange as everything seemed and not knowing how to continue now, he could breathe easy.

When I came home, I told my parents what had happened, skipping the fight and not saying much more. They don't know that Taylor is gay, unlike my friends.

They told me that they were very happy that we spoke to each other again and that everything was fine, and hoped that he would be coming to the house soon.

They are very heavy. If there's one thing I can't stand about my parents, it's that when they take it with anything, they're very heavy. But heavy of the typical ones who love to spend all day receiving friends of their son just to make the grace of a special dinner, that I get together with good people and things like that. And they still don't realize that the first one who is not a good person is their son. I mean, me.

They also don't know that I'm looking forward to their vacation and leaving me alone. I am not happy, however, that I have to wait until August 16th for them to leave. For some reason they are still fucking about in London instead of going to the fucking Caribbean or wherever. At least they have given me a good amount of money for when they do eventuall leave. Come on, they have practically kicked me out of the house in a subtle way.

Maybe they won't leave this summer in the end but, while I decide on my vacation destination for these days, even if it's only a week or two, most of my friends have already left.

I like the idea of ​​having Pat's clown in Bora Bora alongside Finn. I haven't spoken to them since the day of Taylor's beating.

How am I going to talk to them if nothing else makes them laugh? They, however much they have dealt with him, do not love him as I do. What's more, they will have a very little appreciation for him because they get attached to few things. Not to say any.

Stacy has also gone with her family to Cancun and Jules will go with Evelyn this weekend to the Dominican Republic. I don't know how long they will be there.

What I do know is that I'm still in Bayswater.

Georgina is already flying to Dubrovnik. But we knew to say our goodbyes yesterday. Of course, spending time with her always gives one of lime and another of sand. She told me I'm an asshole for not talking to my friends. She told me that I was not going to have as much fun with that silly Tylor as I would with the ohter. I told her to suck my dick. So, literally. So literal that she lacked time to access it as if she were really asking for it.

But we are like that. We hang out fucking and arguing. Or arguing while we fuck. We have no middle ground. And, really, I prefer her with her mouth busy so she is quiet.

I am not at all concerned she will be gone for a while. I don't need her. But when she sends me photos and I'm alone, it doesn't help me at all. At the time, I would pay for a flight for a wild night.

However, I have a thousand and one ideas in my head to have a good time these last weeks of August and what I can of September, before starting my last year in college to start my internships. And none of those plans involve Georgina.

It is not essential to me. I am used to having what I want in the blink of an eye. I have never needed to say that I wanted something to have it. Only my parents who, when I was little, did not give me too much. They said that didn't want me to be a «spoiled child»...

They had no fucking idea what they were educating... Yes, I have gone to a good school, I have had a great education and I am in one of the best universities, but I am not everything they expect me to be. And that matters little to me. I am not guided by what others want from me, I am guided by what I want. And I didn't come with an instruction manual under my arm.

Who said who had to be obeyed? I have already passed the age of listening to my parents, of paying attention to society, of paying attention to me even when my brain tells me to think carefully about what I do. I do not know if it will be very normal that of not thinking about anything and acting the first time instead of seeing the pros and cons. I am not analytical at all when I am taken out of computing, software or robotics. If they take me out of there, goodbye to everything. I am only serious when I study. The rest, I live it.

And I can't live like I'm study because I would end up dead.

I am in my room, alone, with headphones on and a cigar in my hands. Not that I have much time to enjoy anything, as they have taken away what I have already enjoyed. Now the only thing that worries me is finding the perfect place to get aeay from London for a few days. And I think I have it.

With my eyes closed and nicotine filling my lungs as Lady Gaga sings in my ears, I think about how easy it is for me to have life to live it. Very few things worry me, I live without fear of anything, enjoying everything. So much so that even though I have been lost too many times, even though I have been warned about many things, I am still on the edge. What does life have if it is not lived fully? How easy it is for me to live life.

I can't understand how there are people who spend all their time worrying about things that don't even affect them. To me, that doesn't seem like anything more than a way of being dead, like you're a zombie.

Anyway... Everyone lives how they want to, including me. I open my eyes as my mother interupts my thoughts. She's taking my headphones off of me, telling me its time for bed and that I need to stop smoking in the room.

I sit up in bed, my elbows resting on the mattress.

"But you, how did you get in? Come on, I'll be quiet..." I say her with doble intention.

But she also does not care what I say. She takes the cigar out of my fingers, letting out one of those laughs that say «I'm going to give you a good talk tomorrow» and she just points to the door.

"You would have latch, child." She says, calling me that way I hate so much.

"Damn, you're a fucking nightmare, Mom." I complain sitting on the bed. "I'm not going to sleep soon because it's summer." I excuse myself by shrugging my shoulders.

I look at my mother, who approaches my nightstand to put out the cigarette in the ashtray, and then take it, completely ignoring me.

"Are you not going to the Caribbean?"I ask, as it is what I want.

"Do you want to go?" She asks, walking past me to go to the door. She wouldn't be looking at her if she didn't see that she has the ashtray in one hand and the pack of tobacco in the other.

"Don't screw with me... why are you taking it if it's mine?" I ask because I know you won't return my cigarettes until tomorrow. "I am no longer a minor." I say as she looks at me from the door.

"No, Jack, but as long as you live in my house, you don't smoke here."

I low my lips down accepting the words my mother just say to me. I do not say anything. I just assent.

"Good night, Jack." My mother tells me closing the door when leaving. I get out of bed and bolt, then kick the television cabinet.

"How disgusting..." I mumble taking a breath.

From the hallway I hear her say to leave the windows open, to which I do not respond. I simply go back to my bed, where I drop into it, hating the control my parents still have over me as if they believed they could re-educate me. At this stage...

I end up taking my mobile again to continue listening to music on Spotify.

The song I was listening to has already passed me, but I am not too worried when Eminem's Love the way you Lie with Rihanna starts playing. It is one of the few love songs that I like. Those corny don't suit me... I hate Ed Sheeran's bullshit, it's so corny it's capable of causing queasiness.

Shape of You is the only one I tolerate, along with a few others. And only because it is a song with history. A song that I made mine almost without realizing it.

A blonde with perfect curves, at the bar. My friends and I were having a few shots, drinking faster and then slow. I saw her, we looked at each other, I began to wave her over her from a distance and she was not long in coming.

We danced together for a long time while the music played.

I sang. Fatal singing. I'm not very good at singing, but I didn't care. She was laughing. I did not speak, nor did she. I remember her saying, «boy let's not talk too much, grab on my waist and put that body on me» And that was enough to drive me crazy. I loved her silhouette and our attraction, like a magnet.

She was in my room and on my sheets.

We started dating after a first date at a Burger King. We talked for hours and hours and I ended up realizing that I had fallen in love, that it wasn't just her perfect curves, nor her blonde hair, it was her.

That was the worst. Discovering that I have a heart was the worst.

But nothing else I'd never had a girlfriend before. I met her quickly, we talked little, we danced and we rolled up. And after a night of sex, I kept needing her.

I have needed many women throughout my life, I started to soon do everything. Now I'm at that exact point where I only love myself. I don't like to tie myself to anyone. If we went wrong, it was because another one came that seemed more perfect than her. And I didn't mind getting into her bed even though my blonde was waiting for me in her.

It was easy to end that love. Actually, it never would have benefited me. I love myself more than anyone. So when I open WhatsApp and see the messages from all the girls and my friends, I stop responding.

Among all my contacts, there are always those who always respond to my states because they still want more from me. And I repeat sometimes, but with my friends, who give me more security. In the end, life is about living. And you can't live if you tie yourself to someone.

★

*This traduction is mine and I don't speak english. Please excuse me and, if you see an error, say me!Coment, vote, and follow me if you like this! I am working hard on the translation so that it is good, readable and as faithful as posible to the original story, written in Spanish.*

Inspired by Ed Sheeran's
Shape of You

Corrections by 

Thank you so much!