You’re Not Sorry

Miranda Morrissey
Aug 19, 2024
5 min read

Welcome back to the Taylor Swift Song Wheel Generator: The Writing Challenge!

When it comes to Taylor and her songs, they always fill my imagination up the way I believe great artists oftentimes refer to as "the muse". For my writing challenge, I took a song from an album, added a genre, and let the characters and the genre lead the way.

In theory, You're Not Sorry is about a breakup between a romantic couple, but when I first listened to Fearless when it came out when I was a kid, it always resonated more with me as a friendship breakup song. And when the wheel spun my genre as Young Adult, I knew I'd be pulling from my own history of friendship breakups. Because unfortunately, there have been a lot over the years. I've had more friend breakups than boyfriend breakups.

And I'll be honest: It hurts so much. But, there is always a moment where one has to decide if the friendship is worth the hurt, the toxicity, the tears... and it's usually not worth it. So this story goes out to anyone who has gone through or is still going through a friendship breakup. Just know that if you're going through it, it was the right choice. Put yourself first. There are millions of potential friends out there, but only one you.

Please enjoy the seventh Wheel Generated Story! And if you decide to write along with me, please tag me in any Social Media posts, or send me an email so I can read it. :)

Fearless - You’re Not Sorry - Young Adult

“I’m sorry,” Jaimee pleaded.

I clutched the phone in my hand, tears pricking my eyelids. I shook my head as her voice repeated, “I’m sorry. Maddie, I really am.”

“No…” I said, my voice weak. I cleared my throat. “You’re not. You always say you are but you never are and I can’t do this. I can’t be your friend anymore—”

“Maddie, come on—”

“No, Jaimee! You come on!” I slammed my finger onto the end call button and threw the phone onto the couch.

The tears broke free, and I was breathing so heavy I was snarling.

So many times, so many chances. It took so long to figure out Jaimee was awful. My mom was right. She wasn’t a good friend. She was self-centered and gossipy and if I didn’t do what she wanted she’d cut me out and make me crawl on my knees, begging for forgiveness so I could be “in” again.

No more.

I didn’t want to be that person. I was about to start eighth grade, which would be hard with no friend group (since I knew the other girls will pick Jaimee) but honestly… worth it. I’d rather be alone than surrounded by fake friends.

“Everything okay?” Mom asked, walking into the room. She was carrying one of the silver mixing bowls with a wooden spoon, stirring batter. My tummy rumbled. I loved when my mom made cookies.

I shrugged, trying to pretend I was okay. Then I sighed and said the truth. “Not really.”

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked. When I didn’t answer right away she lifted the spoon out of the bowl and grinned. “I’ll let you lick the spoon.”

My stomach rumbled again.

“Okay.”

I followed her into the kitchen, a bright, airy room with yellow tiles and white walls and cabinets with glass windows so you could see the pristine, white dishware inside. And then, of course, my little section with colorful mugs.

Setting the bowl down, Mom bent over to get out the cookie sheets. “So, what happened?”

I frowned. I waited for Mom to stand back up, then answered, “I’m not friends with Jaimee anymore.”

It was Mom’s turn to frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Snorting, I shouted, “No you’re not! You hate Jaimee!”

A small grin broke free on her face. “That may be so, but she’s your friend. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, I’m not. Or I guess, I wasn’t, but now I kind of am. I guess relieved is the better vocab word.”

Mom started dolling out little balls of dough. It took everything in me not to scoop one up on my finger and stick the whole thing in my mouth.

“What about your other friends? Marcy and Abby and—”

“My guess is they’ll side with Jaimee,” I replied, shaking my head. “They’ve always picked Jaimee’s side. I can’t see this being any different.”

“Thankfully the school year hasn’t started yet. Gives you plenty of opportunities to sit next to new people and find some new friends who hopefully aren’t as selfish and bitchy as Jaimee—”

“Mom!”

“Sorry!” Mom rolled her eyes at herself. “I’ll drop a dollar in the swear jar once these are in the oven.”

Mom and Dad curse a lot, and we use the money towards our annual summer vacation. Last week we got home from three days at Dollywood. It was awesome.

“Starting next year’s trip strong,” I joked. “We don’t even have a place picked yet.”

Mom smirked. “Gotta do what I can to help make our vacations extra special.”

We both laughed. Then Mom put the two trays in the oven and handed over the spoon and bowl for me to lick and scrape up the last bits of cookie dough. It was so good.

I took the bowl back into the living room, still upset but feeling a little better. At least I wasn’t angry anymore. You kind of cant be with a bowl of delicious cookie dough in your lap and your mom’s cookies baking in the oven.

Nervous, I picked up my phone and checked the screen. I had 13 notifications: six texts from Jaimee and seven texts from Marcy, Abby, and Heather. Jaimee’s were spiteful and full of hurt and anger. The other girls seemed to be implying that, again, this was my fault, and if I just apologized to Jaimee this would all be over and we could go on being best friends again. Because if Jaimee could apologize to me for being mean, why couldn’t I just be the bigger person and accept the apology and move on?

Because she’s not sorry, and I don’t want a friend or friend group that’s mean. That’s why.

I opened the texts and left them all on read, then put my phone on silent.

“Hey, Mom?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“After the cookies are done can we go for a walk or something?”

I needed to be out of the house, away from the distraction of my phone. I usually took it everywhere with me, but this time I wanted the break. I’d leave it on the couch and not think about it or my ex-best-friends for hours and hours.

“Yeah! Wanna go window shopping at the mall?”

“Yes!! With lemonade?”

“I think we can do some lemonade.”

I smiled. I had a great mom. She was like a mom and older sister and best friend all rolled into one.

“Oh good, Dad is coming home early,” Mom said, reading a text on her phone. “You mind if he comes with us?”

“The more the merrier.”

“He should be home in a half hour. Don’t tell him we ate a bunch of cookies without him.”

“Deal.”

Thank you for reading! I'll be posting new stories every Monday. Please follow me on Social Media to stay up to date for all blog posts, books, and editing. Select the drop down menu below for links.

Social Media

You can also email me at MirandaMorrisseyBooks@Yahoo.com, I'd love to hear from you!

Welcome back to the Taylor Swift Song Wheel Generator: The Writing Challenge!

When it comes to Taylor and her songs, they always fill my imagination up the way I believe great artists oftentimes refer to as "the muse". For my writing challenge, I took a song from an album, added a genre, and let the characters and the genre lead the way.

Please enjoy the seventh Wheel Generated Story! And if you decide to write along with me, please tag me in any Social Media posts, or send me an email so I can read it. :)

“I’m sorry,” Jaimee pleaded.

I clutched the phone in my hand, tears pricking my eyelids. I shook my head as her voice repeated, “I’m sorry. Maddie, I really am.”

“No…” I said, my voice weak. I cleared my throat. “You’re not. You always say you are but you never are and I can’t do this. I can’t be your friend anymore—”

“Maddie, come on—”

“No, Jaimee! You come on!” I slammed my finger onto the end call button and threw the phone onto the couch.

The tears broke free, and I was breathing so heavy I was snarling.

No more.

I didn’t want to be that person. I was about to start eighth grade, which would be hard with no friend group (since I knew the other girls will pick Jaimee) but honestly… worth it. I’d rather be alone than surrounded by fake friends.

“Everything okay?” Mom asked, walking into the room. She was carrying one of the silver mixing bowls with a wooden spoon, stirring batter. My tummy rumbled. I loved when my mom made cookies.

I shrugged, trying to pretend I was okay. Then I sighed and said the truth. “Not really.”

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked. When I didn’t answer right away she lifted the spoon out of the bowl and grinned. “I’ll let you lick the spoon.”

My stomach rumbled again.

“Okay.”

I followed her into the kitchen, a bright, airy room with yellow tiles and white walls and cabinets with glass windows so you could see the pristine, white dishware inside. And then, of course, my little section with colorful mugs.

Setting the bowl down, Mom bent over to get out the cookie sheets. “So, what happened?”

I frowned. I waited for Mom to stand back up, then answered, “I’m not friends with Jaimee anymore.”

It was Mom’s turn to frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Snorting, I shouted, “No you’re not! You hate Jaimee!”

A small grin broke free on her face. “That may be so, but she’s your friend. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, I’m not. Or I guess, I wasn’t, but now I kind of am. I guess relieved is the better vocab word.”

Mom started dolling out little balls of dough. It took everything in me not to scoop one up on my finger and stick the whole thing in my mouth.

“What about your other friends? Marcy and Abby and—”

“My guess is they’ll side with Jaimee,” I replied, shaking my head. “They’ve always picked Jaimee’s side. I can’t see this being any different.”

“Thankfully the school year hasn’t started yet. Gives you plenty of opportunities to sit next to new people and find some new friends who hopefully aren’t as selfish and bitchy as Jaimee—”

“Mom!”

“Sorry!” Mom rolled her eyes at herself. “I’ll drop a dollar in the swear jar once these are in the oven.”

Mom and Dad curse a lot, and we use the money towards our annual summer vacation. Last week we got home from three days at Dollywood. It was awesome.

“Starting next year’s trip strong,” I joked. “We don’t even have a place picked yet.”

Mom smirked. “Gotta do what I can to help make our vacations extra special.”

We both laughed. Then Mom put the two trays in the oven and handed over the spoon and bowl for me to lick and scrape up the last bits of cookie dough. It was so good.

I took the bowl back into the living room, still upset but feeling a little better. At least I wasn’t angry anymore. You kind of cant be with a bowl of delicious cookie dough in your lap and your mom’s cookies baking in the oven.

Because she’s not sorry, and I don’t want a friend or friend group that’s mean. That’s why.

I opened the texts and left them all on read, then put my phone on silent.

“Hey, Mom?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“After the cookies are done can we go for a walk or something?”

I needed to be out of the house, away from the distraction of my phone. I usually took it everywhere with me, but this time I wanted the break. I’d leave it on the couch and not think about it or my ex-best-friends for hours and hours.

“Yeah! Wanna go window shopping at the mall?”

“Yes!! With lemonade?”

“I think we can do some lemonade.”

I smiled. I had a great mom. She was like a mom and older sister and best friend all rolled into one.

“Oh good, Dad is coming home early,” Mom said, reading a text on her phone. “You mind if he comes with us?”

“The more the merrier.”

“He should be home in a half hour. Don’t tell him we ate a bunch of cookies without him.”

“Deal.”

Thank you for reading! I'll be posting new stories every Monday. Please follow me on Social Media to stay up to date for all blog posts, books, and editing. Select the drop down menu below for links.

You can also email me at MirandaMorrisseyBooks@Yahoo.com, I'd love to hear from you!

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