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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.

Jay Asher

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Jay Asher
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: September 30
Novelist
Writer
Arcadia
California
Wanted
Everything
World
Collapse
Possible
Dark
Around

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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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Because I've heard so many stories that I don't know which one is the most popular. But I do know which is the least popular. The truth.
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And at some point, the struggle becomes too much-too tiring-and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy... or whatever... to happen.
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But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head.
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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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And what if in the future we're at war again, or we still haven't elected a non-white or non-male president, or the Rolling Stones are still dragging their tired old butts on stage? That would depress me way too much.
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Don't give up on me now. I'm sorry. I guess that's an odd thing to say. Because isn't that what I'm doing? Giving up?
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But sometimes there’s nothing left to do but move on.
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And as I stood there in the hallway―alone―trying to understand what had just happened and why, I realized the truth: I wasn't worth an explanation―not even a reaction. Not in your eyes.
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How many times had I let myself connect with someone only to have it thrown back in my face?
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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 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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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 sat. And I thought. And the more I thought, connecting the events in my life, the more my heart collapsed.
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Everything seemed good, but I knew it had the potential to be awful.
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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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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 decided to find out how people at school might react if one of the students never came back.
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When the right moment appears, the key is to not let it pass.
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