There really are no constants in college. Let’s face it ­— in the course of four years, everything about you changes. You will dress and look differently. You will most certainly forge friendships with a new group of people. Your priorities and your outlook will change.

Hopefully, you’ll find a professor or a textbook that will forever change your life, and you’ll realize the great fortune you’ve had to spend so many years here. All of that has happened to me.

But to be honest, sometimes I can’t see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. That has happened many times in college. For whatever reason, it’s easy to become bogged down with school or work. At that moment, you wonder why you ever got out of bed in the morning.

The only constant in that time has been The Daily Texan. Every semester when I came back to Austin, it was there waiting for me. I walked down those 25 steps to our basement offices to find my, for once, well-rested colleagues who were ready — dare I say eager? — to take on another semester.

Of course, the hierarchy changes and there are a bevy of new faces. So many people come and go. But the ones that stay through the long haul are the most passionate, loving and understanding people to every walk on this campus.

Veronica — It’s your time to shine, my brown sister. You will take the reigns of a changing paper in the summer. But if you’re good at anything, it’s at taking scattered pieces and broken thoughts, and conceptualizing a coherent and powerful narrative. With your impossible desire and unrelenting passion for the visual, you’re one of the fiercest people I will ever know. I love you.

Martina — Fun! You’re smile and laugh are infectious. You still have a lot of time at UT, and you better live it up. You’re someone who’s so nice, that the moment I see you, it’s hard to remember what’s wrong in the world. Hold on to that when times get tough. I will always be here for you.

Aziza — I loved every minute playing with your hair. You were every bit my sister on this campus. And to think, I only met you last year. Our chats over Gmail and margaritas — and our pleasurable handshakes — literally dragged me through the past year. I am not really sure why or how we started talking. But at some point, we started laughing. And that changed everything. When we laughed, girl, we laughed. Those stomach ache-inducing chortles were the best medicine during those sleepless nights, and of course those two and a half minutes naps helped. Saying goodbye to you — well, I’m trying my hardest to put it off for as long as I can. I will love you forever.

Lena — My God, do I love you. I met you my first semester at the Texan. We were both general reporters, and we tried so hard not make ourselves noticed. We were at the bottom of the ladder, and we climbed up together. I’m 22 years old, and I can say with complete assurance that getting to know you has been one of the best experiences of my life. When you lead this paper in the fall, you’re determination and wit will get your through those long nights. I’ve seen plenty of that in you. You’re a champion, and I love you.

Claire — Thank you for this experience. This job has taught me a great deal about making tough decisions on deadline — nothing less than real journalism. All of that without the consternation of reviewing endless Excel spreadsheets about staffers’ pay. You never hovered over my shoulder or second-guessed my decisions. Make your last semester worth it, become a foreign correspondent and tell the stories of the people at the bottom.

Hook ‘em

Cervantes is a journalism and government senior. He has worked at The Texan since the fall 2008 semester, most recently as associate managing editor.