Plethora (noun): a word describing an ample amount or number, according to Merriam-Webster.

This is my favorite word, and if you know me, you know that I use it way too much in conversation. However, my jumbled and bittersweet thoughts about high school cannot be fully described in any other way. I have a plethora of feelings.

I’ve been putting off writing this letter because I have been trying to figure it all out. I’ve been measuring the degree to which my friends are actually close to me. I’ve been waiting to see if people I’ve hurt and those who I don’t think I did anything to will like me again. I’ve been expecting everything to make itself clear so I could write this letter and give some lasting piece of insightful advice. But I am now realizing that maybe nothing will ever be clear, and that’s life.

Even though I still haven’t come to a conclusion about the end of my journey here, I do know that there have been many things that have impacted me along the way. The Journal, of course, is something I need to thank. This is a publication that has brought me so much. It taught me to be strong in my beliefs. It gave me the chance to lead and to witness this staff that had people so understanding and so, so talented. It is the proudest achievement of my life to read some of these people’s stories and be absolutely blown away every time.

Thank you, Southport High School, for your building and environment. Thank you to the cross country and track people I ran with, some for six years. Thank you to the band and to Mr. Maupin for letting me make music that brings me life. Thank you, Journal staff, Sophie, Tristen, Clara, Damon, my parents, Kenzie and Lily! Thank you, Mr. K. There aren’t words.

I love journalism. If I have learned anything, it is that there is a story in everything and everyone. Never lose sight of yours.