I had a plan: I was going to major in journalism at a small liberal arts school, play soccer for that school, and become a journalist after I graduated. Then, I suddenly didn’t want to anymore. In the middle of my first year as editor-in-chief, I realized my idealized future had no resemblance to what I truly wanted for myself. In an instant, after working myself to the bone for a position where I only had time to manage and never write, my love for newspaper had sunken away, into the ink that coats every issue. The same ink coats my hands and the drawers of papers under my bed.

I still believe in the beauty of journalism and the fact that without factual and unbiased reporting, democracy will cease to exist. Student newspapers are uniquely important as they provide a pathway for an educated and experienced new cohort of journalists. A large portion of my time in newspaper has been taken up by looking forward to this future. Now, I wish to be wrapped back in the memories that sit, covered in dust waiting to be pulled from the folder in the shared drive titled “Volume Archives”.  

There is a shimmering memory in the archives from 2024 I return to when spring break rolls around each year. I am sitting in the passenger seat of my coeditor’s car as she drives down the road, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the flowers that line the highway while “Nellie” by Dr. Dog plays in the background. Amid those days of concert after concert, of marching around town, of scrounging for any free thing I could obtain from SXSW, this stands tall. When, later, Katie holds the phone to record, I am in charge of asking questions to a new favorite band we just watched perform in the upstairs of a bar. Their responses are hard to hear amid the raucous sounds of the next act, but somehow we were able to transcribe my questions delivered with adrenaline filled breath. I am so glad I stayed out that extra thirty minutes to see that band. I am so glad I decided to apply to be an editor. I am so glad I got to meet some of the people I call my best friends.

Despite the fact that being a lead editor did not live up to my expectations, I am grateful for the opportunity. I thought I would be able to change everything about the way the newspaper was run; instead, I felt myself struggling to keep up. I’m disappointed I didn’t enact the changes I dreamed up my freshman year, but I am tremendously proud of the work that myself and my coeditors accomplished. I am proud of the way Lasya and I walked across the South Congress Bridge, despite the ACL brace wrapped around my leg and the heat radiating from every surface. I am proud of the jokes that only Ethan and I seem to find funny amid the dead silence of the newspaper room. I am proud of those nights my junior year where I thought I would never finish editing and I would never amount to anything. I am not proud of myself for failing to lean on the people who surrounded me. I wish that the time I spent my junior year complaining and feeling sorry for myself, I took a hold of the opportunities given to me by Annabel, Sanwi, and Lili. Ultimately, I am grateful for getting to contribute my verse.

I have thought about this aspect of my verse for years. I have thought about what exactly I will complain about in my 30 and the jokes I will make that will most certainly fall flat. I know that this article will get hidden away in the pages of a newspaper that not many of my friends read, but what’s important to me is that I know Ethan, Lasya, and Victor will. While they may be required to because they’re editing it, I am grateful that even after my long texts and constant lamentations, often late at night, they stuck with me through to the end. 

So, if amid your second semester of senior year you find yourself losing patience, motivation and hope: keep pushing through, lean on the people around you, and trust that everything will work out. I poured my whole heart and soul out for these pages, and while it was hard, there was so much joy in its accomplishment. Give what you can to the world, it will come back to you. -30-