It was always going to come to this.

I always knew this was going to end, that’d I’d be writing my last editor’s column in the same spot I wrote my first one: under my comforter with tears in my eyes.

I’ve been soft-launching my last editor’s column for weeks now.

I’ve written goodbyes about stars and from the backseat of my car and about drowning in the endings to prepare myself for this moment, and while every goodbye I will have to say will be hard, this will be one of the hardest.

The girl who started these columns had a lot of dreams, but the girl who’s finishing them is making them a reality.

I’ve made more memories this year than I ever would’ve imagined—stuck my head out of more sunroofs than I thought possible. I’ve grown up a lot too, learned to prioritize the things that are important to me, grew into a person that I’m proud of.

I, in so many ways, owe the person I’ve become to those around me.

To the man who welcomed me to class on my first day in room 139, thank you for taking a chance on my timid sophomore self. You trusted me more than I trusted myself and allowed me to grow into a leadership role, saw the potential in me and gave me two of my best friends to experience this past year with. Mr. George, you gave me a place to put my words and a place to hang my coat, welcomed me into the family that is TCT with open arms, and I’ll never be able to express my gratitude.

I owe my parents too many things to count. 

They’re to thank for pushing me towards the moon, the reason I always apply myself to whatever I’m doing.

I get my love of to-do lists from my mother; she keeps a mountain of sticky notes in our kitchen cabinet so she can write out the things that need to be accomplished. And I get my humor from my father, egging each other on until one of us relents.

Thank you for always supporting me; I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

Avery and Nat, we’ve come so far. 

We’ve amounted to tens of thousands of site views and mornings piled on our couch and text messages that fall somewhere between angst and delirium. 

Thank you for being steady, for being constant, for being as reliable as the air that fills my lungs and the salt that stains the currents. Thank you for a first hour that doesn’t feel like school, for wanting to get ice cream simply because we had spent the day working on The Senior Edition, for listening to all of my rants and crazy ideas.

You both mean more to me than words can explain and I’m so unbelievably thankful that I’ve spent my senior year sandwiched between the two of you.

To room 139 and all of its inhabitants, I hope this room gives you what it gave me.

This room gave me a home within it’s four blue walls and a path for my life—a college major and a dream career. It’s given me a place to publish my words and a chance to perfect my skills, grow into my personality, and given me a safe space to let my guard down. 

It’s provided me with a physical reminder that I’m ok, that I’m growing, that everything will work out. This room has cradled me while I’ve cried and celebrated the best moments of my life.

More importantly, this room has given me all of you. It’s given me Trendsgiving and holiday gift exchanges and Hunger Games simulators and every memory I have of every single one of you.

The old, brown couch has been my home for the past year, but room 139 has housed me for far longer than that, and I can only hope you find the same comfort I did here within these walls.