This is my last column for the DTH. It feels so odd writing that. On the opinion page, I have given a lot of (unsolicited) advice, defended Taylor Swift (sometimes misguided), written several odes to the Varsity Theatre, and expressed many #feelings. Through all of this, I hope I have in some small way created a place for people like me who have at times felt really lost. To tell people it’s okay to love, or not, things about UNC.
I’ve thought quite a bit lately about what I leave behind at UNC when I graduate in a few weeks. Sure, I’ve lost a few books around campus, edited a literary magazine, wrote a lot of poems and done some generally messy things. And I’ve started to realize what I have done here won’t necessarily last forever.
A lot of college is about social climbing. It matters what clubs you’re in, what impact you’ve made on campus and how much you can stuff your resume. Come May, we won’t be here anymore to live in the glory of campus involvement and achievement.
But UNC will be here. A few months ago, I wrote a column about saving the Chelsea Theater from closing because I wanted my Chapel Hill to stay the same. I’m starting to accept the fact the next time I’m back here, this place is likely to be really different. Even the past four years have seen change both physically to the town and to the people in it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is being sentimental is fine, but there is a real freedom to letting go. Of course, as seniors, we’re going to take so much of this place and its people with us, but the point of the next chapter is to not hold on until your knuckles go white.
Letting go is what I have to do. It’s really sad and it’s hard; I’m thinking about all the people who will come after me and do the things I did. Some quirky girl will take the helm with a new (and updated, I hope) byline like Mistress of Quirk. Some other person will live in my apartment and run on the Bolin Creek Trail. People will keep writing beautiful poems under the mentorship of the creative writing department professors. Another person will believe they can eat the large order of fries at Buns on their own.
And you know what? I am so happy that I am replaceable. I’m happy this place can go on without me. What a self-absorbed thing to say, as if this place needed me to make it so wonderful. Here’s to knowing what comes next will matter as much as these past four years of letting go have been.
