I have to admit, starting this article arguably gave me a greater existential crisis than completing my Common App. It also didn’t help that I was supposed to look over what the other seniors wrote. Ah, imposter syndrome and peer pressure. Do you know how it feels when you realize how good some of their writing is, and you literally have nothing on your document?? This is a sign for you to read the other senior articles, by the way. 

While I’ve been planning this whole article in my head since sophomore year, I kept on scrubbing my brain raw, ripping down visions I concluded were ineffective. I felt the need to scrunch up my brain wrinkles to create some deep, profound, existential schblam that I could use to encapsulate my message in everything. 

But how does one include everything?

I’ve been grappling with this problem ever since I wanted to take theater, art and Spanish as a freshman. If you somehow manage to do all the things you want to do WITHOUT sacrificing your sanity, please tell me how. For me, I realized that life doesn’t let you hold everything in your arms. I had to temporarily give up art to try out theater freshman year, and then traded theater for journalism. 

Admittedly, some decisions were less dramatic. I canceled hangouts to study for that cursed calc exam (Hi Mr. Lee!) and sometimes I chose to play MarioCart with my brother over working on Spanish (sorry, Mrs. McCann). But after overthinking the thousands of decisions I’ve made, here’s what I’ve come to understand: not being able to do everything is an inevitable part of the high school experience, even if they’re tinged with regrets or “what-ifs.” In an alternate timeline, maybe I chose band over theater. Maybe I wrote a funny listicle for my senior article. I’ll never know what it truly feels like to try every single thing my impulsive mind thought of doing, but I also know that’s what makes each opportunity I choose to pursue even more special. 

And while I learned to accept that I wasn’t able to carry through with everything, I also learned that it’s okay to have that desire fuel you—yes, even if things don’t work out as planned. Sure I quit my digital art class in 8th grade, vowing to never use Adobe ever again, but I found my use for it in Howler. And, if I never had the delusion that I was some chosen individual destined to try Beginning Journalism, who knows where I would be today? Every little experience sticks with you whether you like it or not, and I’ve chosen to believe that they will come to use one way or another. 

So, my dear overachievers, maybe doing “everything” isn’t always about pursuing a thousand things at once, but figuring out what “everything” means to you. 

While I cannot include all the things “everything” was to me, here’s a glimpse of the little things I’ve cherished: 

• Feeling the exhilarating thrill of deadline day as we longed for our Cha for Tea order to arrive
• Waving to dozens of people as I walked around campus and feeling like a social butterfly (I am not) 
• Seeing my artwork be recognized and appreciated by people beyond myself.
• Inhaling Buldak as I watch my favorite documentaries 
• Stepping out of my comfort zone (ex: calling Target to ask for gift card donations) and actually managing to succeed 
• Zoning in on a task while listening to my favorite musical playlist at Starbucks
• Feeling the rush of satisfaction when I finally learned how to make a proper hair bun

And to the people who have become my everything-s: thank you to my mom and dad, who gave up everything to come here, and to my brother Roy for being my number one fan.

Thank you to everyone on the Howler (I was, uh, also winging it), and to Mrs. Alburger, whose encouragement for me to try journalism changed the trajectory of my high school experience. 

Thank you to all the mentors who’ve encouraged and supported me through everything—special shoutout to Mrs. Rohrs and Ms. Zschunke who were always the first to hear about my morning crash outs. 

Thank you to my friends—from school, CASC, church and beyond—who always made me feel welcome and reminded me that I actually had a life. You made everything better. 

And thank you high school: just like all the everything-s, you can’t stay in my arms forever. As I outgrow this chapter of my life (and enter yet another quarter life crisis), I offer this slightly chaotic bouquet of paragraphs as an adieu. 

Here’s to all the things I have and will experience 🙂