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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.
Jay Asher
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Jay Asher
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: September 30
Novelist
Writer
Arcadia
California
Growing
Dragging
Party
Tangled
Getting
Knots
Point
String
Stories
Connecting
Everything
Strings
Would
Keeps
Time
Rest
Knot
More quotes by Jay Asher
I repeat his words in my head. What's going on? What's going on? Oh, well, since you asked, I got a bunch of tapes in the mail today from a girl who killed herself. Apparently, I had something to do with it. I'm not sure what that is, so I was wondering if I could borrow your Walkman to find out. 'Not much,' I say.
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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 left. When I should have stayed.
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And what about you-the rest of you-did you notice the scars you left behind? No. Probably not. Because most of them can't be seen with the naked eye.
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How in the world was I alone? Because I wanted to be. That's all I can say. It's all that makes sense to me.
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That's why you did it. You wanted your world to collapse around you. You wanted everything to get as dark as possible.
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All you really have... is now.
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After all, how often do we get a second chance?
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Actually, I love trying to figure out why certain books become hits while others, which may be just as good, have trouble finding an audience.
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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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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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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.
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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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She wants to believe my excuses so bad. Every time I lie, she wants to believe me so much.
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Fun drunks make a nice addition to any party. Not looking to fight. Not looking to score. Just looking to get drunk and laugh.
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Could be my soul mate / two kindred spirits / Maybe we're not / I guess we'll never / know
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A lot of you cared, just not enough.
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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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Do you remember the last thing you said to me? The last thing you did to me? And what was the last thing I said to you? Because trust me when I said it I knew it was the last thing I’d ever say.
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