Slow your roll. I'm not planning to die. I'm just saying, to my lovely readers and supporters, this is the end of this piece.
The reason I am not continuing is this: I don't remember to write anymore. I have been to busy in love.
I know, it's weird, it's tragic that someone as I would fall in love. I promised myself I would never again. But, I feel like that was a way to avoid moving on.
From this point further, I vow here that I will always allow myself to move on. Not just from people I once spent hours thinking of the previous kiss. But, I will allow myself to move on from fights with girlfriends, boyfriends, friends, best friends, teachers, family. I will always move on.
And, for if any reason, I am not moving on, you can gladly show me this and wake me the fuck up. I would let you slap me, but nobody needs all of that drama.
I guess this is a new me. A new me in love, exposed to the hurt. And with that, I promise.
And to the guy many of these poems were about: Fuck you. You're absolute trash, and that's saying something, because I hate that phrase. Hopefully you can learn from your mistakes. And I won't hope that people break your heart, but I will hope that you forever more get the best of the best. As much as I've grown to hate you, you don't deserve sadness or loneliness as you've brought me.
And to they guy for Poem 10: Fuck you. You completely tore me to shreds, and made me think I wasn't worth anything. Nobody deserves that. And I feel sorry for all the other girls you've hurt, and have yet to hurt. Hopefully they see through you faster than I did.
Much love to all.
-Xoxo, Ashleigh Machael Mull
April 18, 2017
