We tend to treat endings like losses, like the last page of a favorite book or the final scene of a show. And sure, graduation feels like a big, dramatic final scene. But instead of mourning what’s over, maybe we should celebrate the little things that made it all so special: the professor who believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself, the stranger you ran through the rain with and the late-night food runs with someone you barely knew a semester ago.

I was so terrified of the answers to my questions that I simply stopped asking. How could the Church love gay people but hate that they were gay? Why did the same people who quoted Exodus and Deuteronomy refer to other human beings as “illegals”? Was I actually going to go to hell because my family went to church on Sunday instead of Saturday? If God was good, why was I so alone?

Part of learning how to get over my social anxiety was learning that conversations with strangers could be playful, fun and deeply fulfilling at the same time if I was willing to reject some social norms and shift to topics that brought a deeper narrative, such as the ones I asked the first gent.

Growing up doesn’t mean losing what you once loved, these things can morph and exist in your life, you just must be intentional about it. There will always be people who look down on you, but they are probably jealous that you have another avenue that makes you happy. Growing up isn’t sad, but subjugating yourself to what others impose on you is.

All I can say is, thank God I only spent two weeks at Baylor before I got my foot in the door at The Lariat. I don’t know what else I would have done here to make my college experience half as meaningful.

Politics and personal feelings aside, we need to uphold the Constitution and allow due process to take its course. The least we can do as fellow students is show our support and constantly be a shoulder to lean on during difficult times.