Thank you, TCT

Unfinished. In the expanse of words floating in this bodiless head of mine, unfinished rises to the top. I am as unfinished as it comes, in regards to staff and my essence of entirety, just like this year. Not only is my time as a member of TCT left unfinished, but I am unfinished, too.

In the past two months of isolation—that should have been two months of celebration—I was prepared to do the last bit of growing up. I had so much left to say; never once did it cross my mind that I wouldn’t get the chance to say it. I feel stunted. Left behind. Lost.

I only wish that I had the words to describe what this site, this community, has done for me. Enveloped in the embrace of, I grew up. I finally figured out what it feels like to work towards something meaningful, to contribute pieces of myself to make a mosaic of others. After spending the first half of high school wondering where my spot was, I came to find that it had been hiding in Mr. George’s classroom all along.

Given the current situation, it feels as though all words I once thought were important are now insignificant—devoid of any relevance as I relish the fact they could have been more. There has never been a time that I can recall where I’ve had less responsibilities, and yet to mold my scrabble of thoughts into cohesive sentences has never felt so heavy, so suffocated beneath the overwhelming waves of words. I am weighed down by all the things I wish that I could say, drowning in all of the words that refuse to come out of me.

A simple “thank you” doesn’t seem like enough. This place—this experience—deserves a parade, an expensive Sunday brunch, or a really gigantic, TCT-style hug. If I could thank every individual second that I spent in the TCT room, I would do it in a heartbeat. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, and on and on until forever collapses in on itself in finality.

Maybe it’s pride, or ignorance, or immaturity, but I’ve never been one to get weepy over endings. Nothing lasts forever, and I took pride in refusing to feel sad about that. So, of course I knew that my time as a part of The Central Trend had an expiration date, but I didn’t expect my precious moments in the room to be thrown out so soon. Luckily, though, there is one thing that will never expire: my experiences here will live on inside of me as they will never be thrown out, deleted, or trimmed.

Our time here together will not cease to influence my character, and for that, I have infinite gratitude.