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I want to collapse. I want to fall on the sidewalk right there and drag myself to the ivy.

Jay Asher

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Jay Asher
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: September 30
Novelist
Writer
Arcadia
California
Collapse
Drag
Fall
Right
Ivy
Sidewalk
Exhaustion

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I needed a break... from myself.
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Did the poet use red to symbolize blood? Anger? Lust? Or is the wheelbarrow simply red because red sounded better than black?
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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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Everything seemed good, but I knew it had the potential to be awful.
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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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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 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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Because it may seem like a small role now, but it matters. In the end, everything matters.
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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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And it feels strange, almost sad, to walk through ther empty halls. Each step I take sounds so lonely.
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You don't know what goes on in anyone's life but your own.
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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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But sometimes there’s nothing left to do but move on.
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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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And everyone knows you can’t disprove a rumor.
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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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What you don't understand, you can make mean anything.
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