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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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Yes, it feels great to plan your life when you believe everything can turn out fine. But what about when you're shown, again and again, how little control you have over anything? No matter what I do to try to fix my future, it doesn't work.
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I miss video games where the jump-kick was the trickiest combo to master.
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A lot of you cared, just not enough.
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I sat. And I thought. And the more I thought, connecting the events in my life, the more my heart collapsed.
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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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I want to collapse. I want to fall on the sidewalk right there and drag myself to the ivy.
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I take a slow sip of lukewarm coffee, reopen the book, and read the words scribbled in red ink near the top: Everyone needs an olly-olly-oxen-free.
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You can hear rumors. But you can't know them.
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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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Sometimes we have thoughts that even we don't understand. Thoughts that aren't even true—that aren't really how we feel—but they're running through our heads anyway because they're interesting to think about.
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She wants to believe my excuses so bad. Every time I lie, she wants to believe me so much.
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That’s when I said it. That’s when I whispered to her, “I’m so sorry.” Because inside, I felt so happy and sad at the same time. Sad that it took me so long to get there. But happy that we got there together.
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We both laugh. And it feels good. A release. Like laughing at a funeral. Maybe inappropriate, but definitely needed.
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That's what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you're not sure what the poet's talking about. You may have an idea, but you can't be sure. Not a hundred percent. Each word, specifically chosen, could have a million different meanings.
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If I had a chance with him, I missed it. No, I didn't miss it. I threw it away.
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I decided to find out how people at school might react if one of the students never came back.
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After all, how often do we get a second chance?
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All you really have... is now.
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But sometimes there’s nothing left to do but move on.
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You told me I wrote that poem because I was afraid of dealing with myself. And I used my mom as an excuse, accusing her of not appreciating or accepting me, when I should have been saying those words into a mirror.
Jay Asher