It’s Tuesday night. 11:01pm. I’m staring at a mostly blank Google Doc on my phone because writing this on my laptop feels formal. I’ve procrastinated writing this blog all week, and I think it stems from my tendency to avoid acknowledging the harsh realities of human existence. How can I put into words the sorrow I feel when considering that this time next year, my senior friends will have been away longer than I had them? How can I tell them how proud I am of them when my heart is bursting out my chest with admiration and joy? How can I describe the growth and evolution I’ve experienced at MSA in only 400–600 words? It seems like a daunting task, but what authority do I have to call myself a writer if I don’t even try?
I came into this school petrified and insecure; I felt out of place and undeserving. I hesitated with each step forward and sank into myself, trying to cling to the painful comfortability of my old life. My roommate and suitemates pulled me out of that fairly quickly, and though we no longer live together, 406 is where a piece of my heart will always reside. Their acceptance and guidance made me the person and writer I am today, and I know that we were meant to find each other at the point in time which we did. They mean everything to me, and I trust that they will put as much love and hope into the world as they did into the timid, invisible person I used to be.
I’ve always found it difficult to make friends in new environments, but with one person, it seemed to click instantly. We sat together at our introductory meal, and I distinctly remember thinking to myself: “We’re going to be friends.” I was right, and in the gloomy hours of quarantine and virtual learning, he lit the way for me with reassurance and uplifting humor. My saving grace in times of sadness and disorientation.
My senior and I found one another later than most will expect, but I would not trade our relationship for anything. She is the brightest shade of yellow I have ever seen, and though I will miss our runs to DG and Dirt Cheap, long nights working in the library, and moments of loving silence, I find comfort in knowing that she is going to shake the world in the best way. Everything she touches will turn to gold, and she will mark the way for the generations that come after her.
On Thursday, the first senior literary student will leave, and our space will gain a fulfilling emptiness to it, one with senses of both sadness and completion. By Wednesday we will all be gone, ready to start the next chapters of our lives, whether it be college or senior year. Practicum to Literary Arts, with all 17 of us, will be nothing more than a distant memory, something to reminisce on in our later years. We’ll forget the way the chairs squeak against the wooden floorboards and the knowing smiles we shared when somebody’s headphones betrayed them and shared their hype music with the entire classroom. We will, however, remember each other, and we will remember the way our souls shined as we cheered each other on through our successes and failures. We will remember Mrs. Sibley’s guiding hand, and her many lessons and words of wisdom and encouragement will never leave us.
I’ve written extensively to the seniors about my care for each of them, so I feel content not expounding upon it too much. What I will say to them is this: you are not only capable of great things, but you are destined to achieve them; there’s too much talent, creativity, passion, and drive running through your veins for anything else to be true. Don’t put pressure on yourself to become the perfect writer over the summer, or even in college. You have the rest of your life to stumble through things, and you have the rest of your life to grow. I’m proud of you, and I love you.
To spare myself from the waterworks, I’ll end this here. My fellow juniors and rising seniors, I’m ecstatic to see where this new school year will take us. I’m forever grateful to be surrounded by such talented, kind people. It’s only up from here, and together, we’ll take on the challenges of senior year, one step at a time.
See you in August,
Sydney
P.S. I couldn’t end this without sharing a few of my favorite memories! Enjoy :’) Here’s a song to be emotional to while you scroll through them:
