Senior Goodbye: I know it’s over

‘I welcome the uncertainty — the highs and the lows of college life and the Tralfamadorian wisdom to get through it all.’

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Andrea Plascencia

“But in spite of my Daria-like approach to adolescence, I can’t say everything about my high school experience was awful.”

Around this time three years ago, I was a sad, overly-anxious freshman who couldn’t wait for high school to be over. The feeling was so existential, I often did not think I’d be fortunate enough to live to see my senior year at all. I was nothing further than a purposeless spec of dust, I thought. And then I re-played “Where is my Mind?” by the Pixies

Those who know me have heard me speak candidly about my profound hatred for high school and all it consists of. But in spite of my Daria-like approach to adolescence, I can’t say everything about my high school experience was awful. Despite the existentialism, these four years, without a doubt, have been the most transformative of my life. Within the confines of the main campus building I used to fear, I have encountered the most precious, loving, invaluable people to ever exist, and for that I am eternally grateful. 

The world is my oyster (still not sure what that means), but before I conquer this, uh, oyster world, I want to honor the beautiful Earthlings in my life whom I’ve had the pleasure of coinciding paths with over the course of these very strange four years. I know this is sappy, but I’m sure you all saw it coming. Without further ado: the humans that shaped me. 

To Dr. Babino: For reminding me I am not defined by my grades, or any numerical metric. You are brilliant and forever one of my biggest role models. Gracias por tu cariño, amor y apoyo durante estos últimos cuatro años. 

To Ms. Cortez: You have the most infectious laugh and give the best hugs on the planet. Third grade is forever engraved into my brain because of you. Your classroom was my foundation and I couldn’t have asked for a better one. 

“The world is my oyster (still not sure what that means), but before I conquer this, uh, oyster world, I want to honor the beautiful Earthlings in my life whom I’ve had the pleasure of coinciding paths with over the course of these very strange four years.” (Andrea Plascencia)

To Mrs. Jennings: For being my confidant. I wear the silver bracelet you gave me on most days and I remember to keep going, always. Thanks for understanding my head-in-the-oven humor. 

To Mrs. Haynes: You’ve been my saving grace this year. Thank you for sharing the same sentiments about high school and for having the coolest taste in music and movies. I will miss our lunch conversations so dearly. Maybe one day, when we’re not languishing, we’ll finish that book. You know which one. 

To Mrs. LaLonde, Ms. Bell and Mr. Zauner: For reminding me that music is the unfailing variable. 

To Marin: Who got me through the college admissions process. I will always treasure our weekly check-ins and your unconditional support through it all. Sending you many virtual hugs until we can meet in person!

To my mom, who read me Junie B. Jones and still packs my lunch every morning, and my dad, who tells the best stories and firmly believes he is the funniest person on Earth: You are my literal reason for existing. Thank you for your incomparable love, your willingness to sacrifice anything and everything for my sake and for helping me believe there is genuinely nothing I cannot do. I am forever indebted to you. Gracias por ser mi motivación más grande y mi luz en la oscuridad. Los quiero con todo mi corazón y no tienen la mas minima idea de lo mucho que los extrañare.  

To the bruh: I hit the jackpot in the sibling department when the storks delivered you. Don’t you ever forget that I’ve got you, whether it’s for music recommendations or a word of advice. Feel free to continue sending me strange memes, like the autotuned cockroach video. I can’t imagine a life without you. 

To Maylee: The world can be big and overwhelming, but know you always have a place to call home and you can count on me always. I hope you fall in love with life and all it has to offer.

To Uriko: You’re like a sister. You are a beautiful violinist and beautiful person. You once told me you looked up to me and I have not forgotten it since. If I’ve ever been a role model to you, I can only hope I’ve been a good one. I’m always just a phone call away — don’t forget that. 

To Olivia: If sunshine were a person, it would be you. You are the epitome of a comforting person and have the kindest heart. Thank you for your endless support. I will miss you dearly and I can’t wait to see what next year holds for you. 

To Alicia: I can’t believe we’ve only been friends for a year because now I can’t picture a day where I don’t talk to you. Thank you for being my rock this year and for hating macroecon as much as me (all we know is STONKS). If I could, I would insert the crying shark emoji here. I’m going to miss you so much.

“I wish I knew what happens from here, but I don’t. And for the first time in my life, I’m OK with that.” (Andrea Plascencia)

To my comic sans buddy: Thank you for the good morning message that read “I literally cried to that song at my desk last night so EMBRACE THE PAIN” with the song “Fire Flower” attached. I’ve kept this screenshot both because it’s morbidly funny and because embracing our pain is vital and I need to remember that. I hope you do, too. I will forever treasure our conversations about nihilism and how we will end up being worm food someday. Thank you for being one of my realest friends, I have zero doubt you’re going to do amazing things. Stop sending me the DaBaby sticker. Go be president or something. 

To the girl who carries countless titles, among them “Hongo,” “Girl,” “Ma’am,” “Bro,” “Dude”: This moment is a lot like the song, “Places We Choose Not to Look.” This is the place I wish we didn’t have to look, because it means it’s really over. For almost two years now, I have consulted you for absolutely everything. We’ve laughed, cried, created playlists with strange, perplexing titles and witnessed the confused look on Pinkham’s face because we’re… odd. This is it, Anna. We’ve made it. I’m not sure what the next phase of our lives will look like, but I know we’re exactly where we need to be and that we’ll do just fine wherever we end up. To quote our favorite wallflower, “… In this moment, I swear, we are infinite.”

To the boy: I’m racking my brain trying to find the best anecdote to share, but the only thing I can think of is that one time you made a WinCo pizza, walked over to hand me my plate and I looked down to find that one of my slices was half-eaten. I lifted the pizza up in confusion when you said “Sorry, I was hungry.” We proceeded to laugh about it for the next 10 minutes. I could go on, but I think this sums us up perfectly. For selfish reasons, I wish you weren’t so far away — I need my best friend. Even still, nothing compares to knowing you are doing all the things you said you would. I know it’s been a difficult year, but I’m still so proud of you. Thank you for sharing my exact same sense of humor and for loving me for everything I am. I’m so happy we get to exist at the same time. 

To the most awkward adult who waddles when she walks, aka Pinkham: I walked into your classroom during the worst season of my life, completely clueless as to how much you’d come to shape my life. You’ve made me believe this whole writing thing is worth the pursuit, so here is my best attempt at doing just that. Thank you for letting me talk to you about anxiety, septic tanks and just about everything under the sun. You are the glue that held me together for four years — I know now I am not a purposeless spec. G215 supremacy.

And finally, to my 15-year-old self: You can eat the food. You can afford to take a break from studying every once in a while. This is all temporary, I promise. It’ll all be just fine. 


I wish I knew what happens from here, but I don’t. And for the first time in my life, I’m OK with that. I welcome the uncertainty — the highs and the lows of college life and the Tralfamadorian wisdom to get through it all. All I know for certain is taxes. And death. 

Here’s to getting older, embracing oblivion and clinging onto hope that Frank Ocean will release a new album at some point. 

“… And in case I don’t see ya: good afternoon, good evening and good night.”