Sick

I'm done wasting my time on something that was never meant to be in the first place.
Done waiting on you, waiting on your feelings. You say you could like me, but you don't know? You say I have "potential", but to me, you don't. You did, but not anymore. So you better get your shit together, it's either you do or not. If you do, you're wasting my time; I know you can't be for real. If you don't, it doesn't matter to me. Waiting on you is like waiting on the world to change. Hopeless. It doesn't even matter. A few years from now, I'll look back and won't even remember how you look like, let alone how you made me feel. You'll just be another guy in my book of failed infatuation. Ugh, you make me sick.