I just got sick.
Of what used to be us.
When finally realising love is just not possible.
What used to be us.
So I eventually gave up.
You, me, what used to be us will remain a nice memory from now on.
As I decided not to see you again.
You know I don’t have energy to waste for such feelings anyway. My memory should be more than enough.
I will just get back to conjugate myself with singular form. Once more.