This Isn’t The End

I didn’t expect that on my first day of high school I would ever find solace in all the chaos of competitiveness, of great expectations, and of surviving the college admissions game. Nor did I expect to sit in the wrong class for an hour, dazed and confused, before realizing that I had read the wrinkled schedule printout in my hand wrong. I remember thinking to myself in that moment, “How will I ever survive the next four years?”

Yet here I am, still dazed and confused — but not lost. These hallways, the same ones that kept me from arriving to the correct class as a freshman, slowly but surely (and without me noticing) became my home away from home.

I jumped into journalism not knowing that I would discover my niche in the world. Writing became my safe haven, my go-to when life got difficult. I threw myself into my hopes and dreams, believing wholeheartedly in my potential, in the possibility that someday I would become someone that my freshman self would have been proud of.

When I became the Harbinger’s Managing Editor, I didn’t realize how far I had come until, in the blink of an eye, it was time to pass on the torch. I started off as shy, reserved, and unsure. I’m still all of these things, and perhaps rougher on the edges, but with more certainty of who I am, what I stand for, and what I want out of life.

Nonetheless, it has been an amazing experience witnessing this year’s young staff writers, with the same excitement and uncertainty I first had, take a hold of the challenges the pink room had to offer. In no time, they made the newspaper their own, becoming seasoned writers, photographers, and reporters. I know that while I’m adjusting to life after Cambridge, the Harbinger will continue to educate, inform, and empower young minds.  

With that being said, the most valuable thing I’ve learned from my time here is that life is too short to dwell on the future or the past. I learned how to live in the present, to enjoy and appreciate all of life’s firsts: My first drive, my first music festival, my first near-death experience with friends (I swear it was funny).

Despite the stress of all the newspaper deadlines, the pressure of continuing its legacy, and my desire to leave an imprint of my own, I managed to enjoy the moments that made the stress of senior year worthwhile — Getting lost in my fits of laughter with close friends, basking in the sun during lunch, having philosophical conversations under the courtyard palm trees.

I will miss these moments, but I refuse to be sad.

In the span of four years, I’ve had moments of triumph, of bliss, and excitement as well as moments that made me question every decision I’ve ever made. Though I didn’t expect it, these hallways became the backdrop of my coming of age story, complete with a beginning and middle, but not an end.  

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