Graduation feels like the start to an ending. The kind you don’t notice until the lights feel warmer in the hallway and you catch yourself staring at the corners of the school like they might whisper something back at you. We wore sweatshirts with names of places we don’t quite belong to just yet, took photos like we aren’t all terrified, wrote our majors next to our smiles, and laughed like we didn’t still have one foot stuck in childhood. I watched people who sat by me in math class wear their college like they were already halfway gone. Like they’d packed the version of themselves that cried in sophomore year into a cardboard box, right next to old notebooks and fading friendships, and the somber smells of September mornings. 

     I feel like the saddest part is how normal the day will feel. Like grief wearing your favorite hoodie, like goodbye dressed up in celebration. No one will cry, but I think our hearts will ache a little when the juniors say “next year,” and we realize we aren’t there to watch it all. I keep thinking about how we swore we wanted to leave, how we counted down the tests, the alarms, the bells, said we were done with this town, with too many memories and stories we’ll never get to tell. 

      I miss the kid I used to be. The one who barely knew what college meant. The one who thought senior year would be different. The one who didn’t know how much goodbyes could look like, group photos, and Instagram captions. When people would say, “It goes by so fast,” or “You’re going to blink, and it’s over,” I never believed them. It felt like just yesterday, I was walking into the school for the first time, scared to be in a new atmosphere, and now, I’m scared of what it will be like without it. 

      I was “peer pressured” (if you’d like to call it that) into joining journalism. I was always good at writing, but the thought of having to write about something I barely knew about in two weeks seemed like the end of the world to me. Let’s just say I’m overdramatic, because after joining the class, it was the only period I looked forward to attending (ironic because I’m rarely in class anymore). What used to be random people who walked the same halls as me turned into a forever family that I’ll never forget. 

     Most people think that journalism is a stupid class, because all you do is “write stories and film videos,” but they aren’t looking any deeper than the surface. It’s where you feel like yourself and don’t have to hide in a shell, scared of what everyone might think of you. I remember laughing at Nick because he always had the most out-of-pocket things to say, or listening to Haley’s music while she sang every lyric at the top of her lungs, and becoming close to Adicyn, even though we argued almost every day. It was my home away from home, and I will always be grateful for that. 

        I was at my lowest point at the end of my freshman year, thinking that this was going to be the next three years of my life. Journalism helped me be myself and learn to speak the truth (even though I may do it a little too much). When I think about what I’m going to miss the most, this class and the people in it instantly come to my mind. All of the memories shared and the activities we did together are core memories and will pop into my head 30 years from now, making me laugh and reminisce about the feeling of love. I’m going to miss the journo potlucks, Christmas parties, birthday treats, and random dance parties we had, and especially Hannah’s meatballs. 

        I honestly wasn’t even supposed to make it to graduation, or at least walk across the stage. It’s almost surreal to think that in the blink of an eye, you’re entire gravitational force can feel like it’s switched, and all you can think about is how you didn’t live your life. Anything can happen, and not everyone is lucky. Live your life to the best of your ability. Ask that guy or girl out, smile at a random person, eat a freaking cupcake, and go to sleep excited to experience another day because it is truly a privilege to wake up and live. Your life will never be your own if you only worry about what other people think of you. Focus on where your feet are now, and stop worrying about where you will walk next, because if it’s truly your path, you’ll make it there when the time is right. 

        It’s time to start my journey of life after high school, which is weird to think about because it’s almost as if I’m saying an inevitable goodbye that I will think about forever, wishing I could go back. I’m going to miss bothering Hansen every day, or getting on Blech’s nerves. Waving and smiling to some of my favorite teachers in the hallways and asking the most random questions to Henkel to make her frustrated, and especially Journalism, for making me feel like family, and making me feel seen.

       I want to say thank you to my friends who have stuck by me and helped create these memories that will last a lifetime. Thank you, Adicyn, for making class fun and eventful, even when we hated each other so much. All the laughs, side-eyes, and glares we shared will stay with me forever. And a special thank you to Mundy, who was our own Miss Honey, who bought or made every birthday treat, helped with our problems, and always had our backs. You were always there for us and treated all of us like your own kids, and I will always cherish the kind of love you let us experience. These have been some of the best years of my life, even through all of the ups and downs, I will never regret joining Journalism.