I’ve rewritten this column multiple times in the past few weeks. Each time with different leads and ideas, memories to include, and cover photos, but this is as good as it is going to get. 

But the thing is, there is no simple way to write this, and the rest of the staff can agree. All the drafts I spent too much time on are no help at all, because I can’t—for once—convey everything through words. The people I’m losing in a few days mean more than a column, more than a party, and more than just writers. 

People who’ve shaped us all as writers, the seniors who’ve shown us unconditional care, and love. They’re the prettiest angels on Earth for it, and to appreciate them all, here’s my final column before they fly away and start their lives. 

Starting with Audrey, whose beautiful wings will continue to flourish throughout her life. This year, I’m thankful you decided to come back after a gap year, because nobody can make a room roar in hilarity as you can. This class has given us all an opportunity to talk to you and get to know your contagious smile and wholesome heart. 

Never stop believing in yourself. Let your elegance shine from the center of your soul. 

And Lauren, I believe you’re a superhuman sometimes. With all that you do, it’s amazing that you still find the time to remember to high-five me in the halls. Every day, I look in the halls, trying to spot you in a wave of people. I sometimes find success in pointing you out in crowds, and when I do, a nice clap rings throughout the area, causing heads to turn in alarm. 

Even though it’s our little thing in the halls, our friendship has formed, despite never being in an official class with you. When you leave for Indiana, I’ll need one last high-five (for good measures).

Speaking of never being in a class together, Coco, I haven’t missed one of your stories in a while. Everything you write is immediately interesting to me; I know that once I start following the words in the lead, I’ll gravitate more toward it. Like a little kid, I wait patiently until another editorial gets published, wondering what way you’re going to keep me entertained now. 

Wherever life takes you beyond college, just remember The Central Trend has never seen such a fashion expert. I’ll miss the thrill of racing to refresh the site every Monday.

Oh, sweet Jessie, and oh, sweet Meggie. They’re frolicking in the meadows again, where their minds run rampant and dreams materialize into their lush reality. As they chase the sophomores around, they catch up with us. How caring these goddesses are, and how opulent their words are on the screen.

They crafted these stories. Handmade, homemade, these two are the sparkling twinkle I see at the end of the day. I look forward to your motherly touch, for Sofia and I are lost without you two. 

Like two lost ducks we are. I guess we’re the ones frolicking in the meadows now. When you graduate, it will only be the sophomores left, and how come you’re all gone this early? 

I am going to cherish these last few days for us, forever, for the future that will one day come.

And to somebody who wants to plan some new adventures, Liza, this is for you. I’m excited to see who you’re to become. A positive soul always, in fact, I’ve never heard something bad come out of your mouth. It’s a weight lifted off my shoulders when I meet genuine and kind souls like you. You walk in with a smile on your face, and you’ll walk out with a smile—I’m sure of it. 

Nonetheless, this next chapter is important. This near future is going to be exciting, and the world will get crazier 45 minutes away, but please don’t ever lose your “Liza.” 

The same thing goes for you, Kelsey. Don’t ever lose yourself in the craze imposed by the malevolent forces. I taught myself to write editorials by reading yours—picking up on what I shouldn’t say or do. Take note of how you introduced heavy topics and elaborate immensely without spoiling or being too controversial. 

Without your spicy editorials, I would probably still be dreading editorials, or even writing as a whole. In short words, you saved a passion of mine, and I’ve never fully thanked you for it. So, here it is: the strongest thank you for crowning me as your editorial baby.  

To Emma, who had the misfortune of reading my first ever editorial, and all of my very first stories. I am terribly sorry, but I couldn’t be as confident in my ability to write stories if it weren’t for you. Yeah, they were rough, and I don’t even want to look at all the parts I severely butchered, but I only learned from your comments and suggestions. 

Thank you for always being an amazing editor, and thank you for everything that you, Avery, and Nat have done for staff. Starting just a year ago, you’ve been by our sides this entire time. Helping us when we need help, dealing with us when everyone seems to be pushing all the wrong buttons, and giving us writers people who we can look up to. 

Your diligence and leadership, Avery, is something I appreciate—and Nat, you’re my fellow spumy short person. All three of the editors can whip up any story, no matter how good or bad, and I’d still drool over the writing and its brilliance. 

To all the seniors on staff, don’t wander too far from room 139, but if life out there just so happens to sweep you away, come back! Room 139 is always a place you can call home.