I’m coming out of retirement (my time abroad, I’ll return as managing editor next semester) for one last job (a literal love letter). Alas, I was left with no choice; time, ever so cruel, has kidnapped some of my dear friends, and their journey at Trinity University has come to an end. Lucky them. Despite all efforts to thwart their departure, my favorite seniors will, against all odds, graduate. However, it is not too late — I am too far away to physically restrain them, but if you, dear reader, feel inclined to take matters into your own hands, far be it from me to stop you. Half-jokes and not-so-fake devious schemes aside, I’m here to announce that I’m writing an ode to the graduates to tell them I’m so grateful for the time we spent together.

The Trinitonian has many wonderful seniors graduating, some of whom I’ve spent countless Wednesday nights with pouring over frustrating news and crying over dilapidated technology. I’ve gossiped about shady people, fought over Oxford commas and stayed up until six in the morning waiting on election results with you lovely kids. For the life of me, I cannot believe that with all your (our) immaturity that you’re allowed to graduate this May. But, maybe that’s a good thing.

We’ve got too many serious people left in the world. It took moving to Prague, hearing laughter and feeling actual springtime weather in April to realize that people in Texas are too uptight. By nature of being overworked students at a liberal arts university, it should somehow come with the territory that our energy, like our brains, are burned out.

Yet somehow I’m constantly astonished by the utter childishness that my senior friends manage to hold on to — the kind that helps you find joy in the burnout, mischief in the misery (Ides of March — if you know, you know) and meaning in a student publication that most don’t take seriously enough.

It’s so funny: When I first joined Trinity, I didn’t know I’d be signing up for this. One of the reasons I chose Trinity was because it offered (and I’m quoting my tour guide here) “guaranteed job security.” This school’s career department helps students find a job, stability, a career, a life, whenever they need it. Trinity sets you up for life after college in an absolutely unique way.

But no one ever told me that one of the most secure things I’d find at Trinity wasn’t a career, it was people. It’s you guys! The ones who made Trinity feel less like a brick-and-mortar liberal arts college with a penchant for overworking its students (just a bit) and more like a community. I am so grateful to all of you for trusting me with your anxiety, fears and complaints about professors who, by all measures, totally suck for not giving you that A you totally deserved. Totally.

I’m so grateful for pulse editor Lauren, and how she has never let me feel judged, and for the hours we spent putting together the impromptu Election issue, which was — in my (and the Society of Professional Journalists’) unbiased opinion — the best Trinitonian issue, like ever. I’m grateful that special sections editor Gio and I are the only competent people on planet Earth, and that you literally flew to Prague to visit me before you graduated; I never would’ve thought that the person I was so scared of disappointing as a baby Trinitonian journalist would sleep on my couch for a week in the Czech Republic two and a half years later. I’m grateful that sports editor Colin put up with me when I played devil’s advocate. I’m also grateful that they know a lot about sports, but never made me feel stupid for asking questions like “What’s a soccer?” I’m so grateful to every graduating senior inside and outside the Trinitonian for making this campus feel like home.

And as excited as I am for them to break out of it, I’m so grateful for the stupid Trinity bubble we made our haven and our sanctuary. Our little corner of campus will always be the place that we made our own, decorated with pictures of LeeRoy in drag, Jesus, Nicholas Kristof and Danny Nguyen.

So, my final request to you is that you hold the stupidity and silliness we fostered in our dungeon dear. Keep sending me random Reels and searching for stories that matter. As the old adage goes, you can take the kid out of the Trinitonian, but you can’t take the Trinitonian out of the kid … or something like that.

You’re all going to go on to do amazing things, and I know that because you already have. Everyone graduating from Trinity has sacrificed so much to be a part of something bigger than themselves. We’re going to miss you here in the dungeon.
Sappy shit aside, don’t be a stranger. I’m the type of person you can call at 2:00 a.m. on a random Tuesday three years from now. I’ll pick up, and if I don’t — call again, or show up at my door. I’ll leave the porch lights on for you.