A little over 3.5 years ago, I made the best decision of my life: I accepted my offer to attend Texas A&M. While I came out of the hospital within my first week of life dressed in an A&M onesie — thanks, Dad — I originally wanted to get out of Texas and find my independence.

Fortunately, I took my family’s advice — thanks again, Dad — and toured A&M for giggles. Little did I know, standing at what was formerly the center pole of Bonfire Memorial, chills would rush over me. It was something I hadn’t felt in a very long time — a sense of belonging. From that day forward, I knew exactly where I was going to go to college.

Like most college students, I came to A&M thinking I knew exactly what I wanted to do. However, it took one entry-level biology exam to show me kinesiology wasn’t the path for me. After debating what in the world I wanted to do with my life, I landed on journalism — following exactly in my father’s footsteps — thanks again, Dad.

At the time, I wanted to go into public relations. Though I knew very little of the industry, I knew I liked to write and learn about anything and everything, both crucial for public relations. 

Now, I must add — I knew nothing about how to write journalistically. In fact, I sobbed in my first 200-level journalism course to the girl who sat next to me, my now dearest friend Shalina Sabih, about how to write a brief weather statement. But with time, I found my groove, and my passion flourished.

After taking my first writing-intensive journalism course, I found my way to the lower level of the Memorial Student Center, or MSC, which is rumored to never see the light of day. Wandering into the student media office, I found myself signing up to write three stories for The Aggieland Yearbook. Just a few months later, I was offered the position of managing editor for my junior year.

And, oh boy, did my love for storytelling begin to thrive.

I found my passion for feature writing, and I knew I would end my college career writing features. Coming into this semester, I made the decision to transition over to The Battalion, which at one time was daunting but now seemed like the perfect place for me.

Thanks to my leadership team, Kynlee Bright and Ian Curtis, I immersed myself in the community — maybe knowing a little too much at times — and found my rhythm with the life & arts desk.

Leading my team of 16 writers with the amazingly talented editor and leader, Fallon Ferguson, was one of my proudest moments while at A&M. I watched my writers improve, grow in curiosity and step outside their comfort zones. Though I spent more hours a week in the basement of the MSC than I did sleeping, every hour, minute and second was worth it.

Journalism has taught me countless life lessons, including how to be persistent, have a strong work ethic and remain open-minded. Connecting the Aggie community with deep human-interest stories of over 80,000 students and beyond has been oh so rewarding.

Though it’s hard to part with something so pivotal to my development and growth as both a writer and a person, I look forward to watching the publication continue to grow. The Battalion and journalism as a whole have shaped me into the confident, curious and strong-willed individual I am today.

Thank you, Fallon Ferguson, for working alongside my craziness and for matching my energy this semester. I am so proud of how much you’ve grown, and I can’t wait to see what you do with life & arts next semester.

Thank you, Ian Curtis, for taking a chance on me this semester and providing me with this opportunity. You’re the most talented writer I’ve ever met, and I know you’re going to go far.

Thank you, Kynlee Bright, for giving me the freedom to write what I want and for trusting my leadership style. The Batt is incredibly lucky to have both an extremely talented writer and leader guiding them.

Thank you, Cara Hudson, for opening the door to leadership within student media two years ago with the yearbook. Thanks to you, I was able to grow more than I ever thought possible.

Thank you to my fellow editors, writers and advisors who have supported me every step of the way. I will miss y’all dearly, but know, I will always be watching. And, I must say it is true: From the outside looking in, you can’t understand it, and from the inside looking out, you can’t explain it. 

Lastly, but certainly not least, thank you, Aggieland, for the best 3.5 years of my life. Your Fall 2025 associate life & arts editor, signing off.