I like to tell people that I joined Technician four years ago because I got dumped. Which is mostly true, but there’s obviously more to it than that.

I don’t even think I knew Technician was a newspaper — like an Honest-To-God Newspaper That Gets Printed — until I got on a Zoom call with one of the incoming Vol. 103 managing editors and they explained what articles you had to write and trainings you had to complete before you could start getting paid. I didn’t even know you could get paid. I didn’t know anything.

Another thing I like to say: Everyone says “you don’t know what you don’t know” when it comes to being editor-in-chief, but after leading this newspaper for a year, I can confidently say that you really, really, really don’t know what you don’t know.

After we had an error with how some of the pages were printed in one edition early in the fall semester, one of my current managing editors told me that the amount of stuff I was going to deal with this volume would make that one instance fade into nothing. Which is fully true, but there’s obviously more to it than that.

Jakob, at the time, I thought you were just saying stuff. I really thought to myself, “Well, it can’t get that bad.” You’ve seen firsthand now, in the managing office, that it most definitely can.

I’m not going to lie and say that this job picked me up every time it put me down because, frankly, it trampled me when I was down. More often than not, my job at Technician was a source of negativity in my life, a constant reminder that I wasn’t good at x, y, and z, and that I never would be and that there was no point in trying. I knew there were people out there who didn’t believe in me and were waiting for me to mess up, surely laughing when I did. ‘Cause I did.

But I think I did a fine job. I learned a lot about managing people, prioritizing coverage, writing different kinds of stories, relationships and myself. Especially myself. I’ve gained valuable experience that I know is setting me up to pursue a career that I want, one where I can dig my hands into service-based journalism. I am so proud of what this paper has accomplished this year.

But none of what I’ve obtained professionally was something I thought of when I was doubting myself or when we all were going through our print nights, having editorial board meetings, texting and calling about what was ready for copy that evening. What I did think about in these moments of work and self-loathing, was how supported I was by all of my people.

You were all great to work with (for the most part — if you know, you know), but you were even better to be friends with.

When my cat died the week before my birthday at the end of August, you guys got me a card and flowers and gave me the space to be emotionally volatile as I so often am, whereas one of my then-closest friends outside of Technician couldn’t be bothered to act like she cared.

When I had deadline after deadline to meet for turning in my thesis, you guys were always there asking how it’s going, what you can do to help, letting me be moody and stressed and disorganized and not-all-that-great-at-this-whole-editor-thing sometimes. And y’all never made me feel like I had to hide that.

As much as I dreaded having to work most weeks, I was always ecstatic about getting to spend time with you guys, always ready to hear the next joke or unhinged banter. Or hear Matthew talk about lemurs.

Like I said, there are people out there who I know did not believe in me, but I knew who did. Koen, Elizabeth, Lucy: You’re also included here. I knew you all believed in me not just professionally, but as a person.

So yeah, working at Technician has kicked my ass, and it definitely isn’t Technician that I’m grateful for. It isn’t Technician that I’m going to miss. What I’m sad about, what makes letting go of Technician one of my hardest goodbyes, is that I won’t get to suffer through life with you all anymore.

I won’t get to walk into a room of 15+ people that feels like home and complain about how I wish I never went to graduate school. (That’s dramatic — I just mean I wish I waited until I was like 30.)

I won’t get to hear Ben’s laugh — which almost gives me a heart attack sometimes, by the way — reverberating off the walls of Witherspoon.

I won’t get a weekly reminder from Connor that I didn’t know his name for at least two months after we initially met.

I won’t get to hear Ally sing German Opera and perform an interpretative dance for me at 10 p.m.

I won’t get to hear Jackson’s quiet yet hilarious comebacks. I won’t get to hear Kelsey’s, which aren’t quiet but are hilarious.

I won’t get to talk to Amaya about carpal tunnel and ask her dumb questions.

I won’t get to help Nicole draft emails to her professors.

I won’t get to hear the latest, absolutely insane thing to happen to Jordan. Or the latest, absolutely awesome thing to happen to Matthew.

I won’t get to go back and forth with Daniel and still not be able to tell which one of us is joking.

I won’t get to walk away every time Hector comes into the managing office. (I don’t know how I manage to do this).

I won’t get to see Alex throw an (out)fit.

I won’t get to hear random bits about Rory that genuinely stun me. Why did you just go to that abandoned house???

I won’t get to have sweet Brennan bring me dinner and then gaslight me.

I won’t get to ask Jakob to get me a treat from the vending machine with his dining dollars.

And I won’t get to tell Olivia her body is tea.

If you guys couldn’t tell, I have a hard time opening up and telling people what they mean to me. More on that in the letters I’ve written for each of you! But, generally speaking, I don’t do a great job of expressing my appreciation for the people I care about most.

What I’m trying to say is: I love you all, and you all have a piece of my heart.