This paper, like the journalism industry as a whole, has kind of screwed me over. But I kept coming back. And it wasn’t because of the great pay or work-life balance. It was because of the people I got to work with. This one is for y’all.

Kirsten, thank you for hiring a specky freshman (freshman, not freshmen, see how I did that correctly?) who didn’t know how commas worked. I still don’t.

Megan, thank you for teaching me basically everything about journalism. I still can’t believe you never fired me.

Trinady, thank you for always having my back this semester and dropping everything to call me when I texted you “I’m gonna scream” with no context. Sorry that happened so frequently, but I did want to scream a lot.

Areeba, you’re one of the most talented people I’ve met at this place. Thank you for always understanding how to use a dataset when the rest of us don’t.

Angelica, Lisa and Tiana, I’m so grateful I had you during the summer. Thank you for making me braver.

Sheryl, Skye, Samantha, Tori, Kevin, Lauren. It’s been a privilege to watch you grow and feel like I might have had a hand in it. Thank you for letting me be your news editor.

COVID-19, fuck you! I hope you burn in hell so I can get my life back.

Hannah and Brooke. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else by my side heading into this semester. Thank you for taking breaking news when I was asleep until noon, for leading pitch when I just didn’t want to talk to anyone, for always having better icebreaker ideas and for the cat memes. I know you’re worried about what comes next, but I promise that soon enough it’ll be old hat (sorry, you know I had to fit that in).

Neelam and Emily. The two best people I met in that dingy old basement. Thank you for building me up when I am doubting myself (which is always). Thank you for listening to me complain about everything all the time and reassuring when I’m right (which is always). Thank you for the “Twilight” rewatches and late nights on my couch and nighttime drives listening to Phoebe and bologna versus salami debates. Y’all are precious to me or, like, whatever.

Mom and Dad, thank you for always supporting me. Hopefully I’ll do better in my classes now. Marcus, please go to med school or something. In fact, don’t ever touch a newspaper in your life.

When I first heard of The Daily Texan, I thought the work we did was impossible for me to be a part of. I couldn’t imagine being a crime and breaking news reporter or leading my own team of staffers. But in three short years, the person you never imagined you could become is who you are. The Texan does that to you. So, one last time — thanks for reading.