I sat down to write my last published work at Marcus High School, my senior column, and I was at a loss. I have no clue what to say about my experience these past four years. At first I thought there wasn’t much to say.

Then I thought about my friends. We had late night conversations and talked about our fears and hopes. We ate countless meals together. We were there for each other through heartbreaks, successes and humiliating moments. It’s okay that you tried to hit on the Jersey Mike’s cashier and he didn’t want to talk, come sit down. Our table is in the corner where he can’t see us; we can laugh about it.

I remembered my romantic relationships. I learned about love and loss, emotional maturity and a lack of it. I learned about sharing memories with someone else and being able to reflect on them peacefully, even after a messy breakup. I learned how to argue and work through relationship issues. I learned about heartbreak and that my mom knows exactly how to heal it. Drink some tea, let’s watch “The Real Housewives.”

Then I remembered my teachers.

I was taught by people who were passionate about learning. I suddenly became invested in Government, Econ and English. Who knew I would care about Algebra II? Some teachers were role models, some were confidants and some were both. Friends for just a moment. I didn’t know how to handle what was going on at home, I needed an adult to give me advice. Friend problems, family problems, they listened. It’s okay, that’s tough, I’m here for you.

I couldn’t leave out band.

I learned about acceptance. I stood with the other kids in my program, even when it seemed like others didn’t. I learned about leadership and hard work. I pushed through some of my toughest moments, emotionally and physically. I learned about unconditional unity.

I was in newspaper my senior year.

I reconnected with my love for writing. I looked for and found stories to tell. I reviewed new restaurants in our community. I told the world how to be alone on Valentine’s day. I told the story of a family who faced tragedy. I learned about the importance of journalism. I told my own stories. I was accepted into the Mayborn School of Journalism at UNT. I was united with others through one love for newspaper.

When I sat down to write this column, I felt sad and robbed of my senior year. In the beginning, I truly felt like it would be easier to deal with missing the best three months of school if I acted like it was insignificant. In reality, I met some of my best friends. I figured out who I am as a person and what I am good at. I took advice from adults that will have a lasting impact on my life. I grew into an adult with the help of my classmates, friends, teachers, advisors and directors.

I would say that I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything, but it will always be disappointing to have to miss the senior breakfast, the prom, and have a different graduation than I had dreamed of. However, I find comfort in the fact that I have grown, learned, loved and been loved so much during these past four years, and those experiences are valid.