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But they were wrong. There was a reason.

Jay Asher

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Jay Asher
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: September 30
Novelist
Writer
Arcadia
California
Wrong
Reason

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I miss video games where the jump-kick was the trickiest combo to master.
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What the hell happened to Pluto?!
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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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And after I dropped him off, I took the longest possible route home... I explored alleys and hidden roads I never knew existed. I discovered neighborhoods entirely new to me. And finally... I discovered I was sick of this town and everything in it.
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Because our lies matched. It was a sign.
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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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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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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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Everything about it was false. Right then, in that office, with the realization that no one knew the truth about my life, my thoughts about the world were shaken.
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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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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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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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If I had a chance with him, I missed it. No, I didn't miss it. I threw it away.
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But sometimes there’s nothing left to do but move on.
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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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And here he is again, yet things feel like they'll never be as easy between us as they once were.
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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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But I need to wake up somehow. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s best to get through the day half-asleep. Maybe that’s the only way to get through today.
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I hate not knowing what to believe anymore. I hate not knowing what's real.
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It's important to be aware of how we treat others. Even though someone appears to shrug off a sideways comment or to not be affected by a rumor, it's impossible to know everything else going on in that person's life, how we might be adding to his/her pain. People do have an impact on the lives of others that's undeniable.
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