Bottoming Out

2. (Tyler's POV)

I remember the first time I met her.
Not bizarre or weird, well, maybe a little.

Exactly 457 days ago. She broke my heart.

Exactly 685 days ago. I met her.

In Exactly 228 days I let her brake my heart.

That's Exactly 8 months and 4 days.

I've done this math before. It's as easy as breathing by now.

But it's worth it, because I don't deserve to forget her.

Because that's what girls like her do. They make it a damn game. And we never know the rules. And we can never play better.

She was a black haired girl, 17 years old. And that's exactly what she was, that's it, nothing special. Just a girl.

And that's what I don't get, she is just a girl, with grades good enough to get by, parents who argue but love each other and the complete opposite of me.

She loved herself, stood up for other people, for her, she was loud with her friends, quite around some others.

I was just going with life.

She was taking control of Life, never letting it drag her down.

And I think that's when I started to love her, when I knew she was strong.

Because strong meant nobody got to mess with you and drag you to the bottom. Strong meant Safe.

I needed something safe in my life.

And I think that's when I doomed myself, when I chose her to be my safe thing.

Because safe didn't mean strong.
Because strong meant outgoing and adventurous, and those weren't safe.

  And that's just the logic of my broken heart.

  And I don't like that logic.