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I’m sorry.” Once again, those were the words. And now, anytime someone says I’m sorry, I’m going to think of her.

Jay Asher

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Jay Asher
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: September 30
Novelist
Writer
Arcadia
California
Thinking
Anytime
Sorry
Says
Words
Someone
Going
Think

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I don't know exactly what it is, but it looks like interconnected websites where people show their photos and write about everything going on in their lives, like whether they found a parking spot or what they ate for breakfast. But why? Josh asks.
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I could picture life—school and everything else—continuing on without me. But I could not picture my funeral. Not at all. Mostly because I couldn’t imagine who would attend or what they would say.
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Because when you're posed, you know someone's watching. You put on your very best smile. You let your sweetest personality shine.
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It's nothing. A school project. My go-to answer for anything. Staying out late? School project. Need extra money? School project.
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I want to look back. To look over my shoulder and see the Stop sign with huge reflective letters, pleading with Hannah. Stop!
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Maybe it didn’t seem like a big deal to you Zach. But now, I hope you understand. My world was collapsing. I needed those notes. I needed any hope those notes might have offered. And you? You took that hope away. You decided I didn’t deserve to have it.
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You don’t know what goes on in anyone’s life but your own. And when you mess with one part of a person’s life, you’re not messing with just that part. Unfortunately, you can’t be that precise and selective. When you mess with one part of a person’s life, you’re messing with their entire life. Everything. . . affects everything.
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If my love were an ocean, there would be no more land. If my love were a desert, you would see only sand. If my love were a star- late at night, only light. And if my love could grow wings, I'd be soaring in flight.
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I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes, you're one of the reasons why.
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Teens in the '90s had the same basic desires as they do now.
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When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?
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A flood of emotions rushes into me. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.
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Josh will begin disappearing into a future where the only place he and I remain friends is on the Internet.
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I simply wanted a kiss. I was a freshman girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked the boy, he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the story, the whole story, right there.
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If time was a string connecting all of your stories, that party would be the point where everything knots up. And that knot keeps growing and growing, getting more and more tangled, dragging the rest of your stories into it.
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Whenever I'm out late she makes a sandwich for my school lunch. I always protest and tell her not to, saying I'll make my own when I get home. But she likes it. She says it reminds her of when I was younger and needed her.
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Because it may seem like a small role now, but it matters. In the end, everything matters.
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We all know the sound a camera makes when it snaps a picture. Even some of the digitals do it for nostalgia’s sake.
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But sometimes there’s nothing left to do but move on.
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What you don't understand, you can make mean anything.
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