"Moving on"

Is the hardest thing to do.

It's been two years now,
Since we last saw each other,
Though we still contact each other once in a while.
You did contact me when something good is bound to or did happened.

And I still thought, I am, rather at least, in your mind, which I still hope I exist in your heart.
To be honest, the butterflies in my stomach come and go.

But rather sometimes, I thought you only do contact me if you ever needed something.

Two years, no progress.
Tired.
Is what I feel now.
Tired of pursuing you.
Tired of pursuing love.
Tired of fighting for us.