When you know, you just had enough. Your limits can no longer exceed. You just couldn't give a shit anymore. Your efforts were not multiplied to the action. You chase after them who just couldn't give a damn about your existence. You became the forgotten one. You became a memory. You were in someone's chapter in their book and that is just it. And then the author decided to ink you out from the pages. Your name is no longer penned on the dried pages. You became a memory of someone's choice of words and syllables. You are no longer in their thoughts. You are like sand particles, in infinities of millions. Not knowing when to find one another. You are lost, you are alone.
'In the end, it was never him, nor her. It was never them.'
'....It was just me. All along. All this while..'