I wasn’t a Tar Heel born. I wasn’t a Tar Heel bred, either.
My True Blue dedication wasn’t even founded until my sophomore year of college, when I’d finally agreed that yes, this University is the Southern Part of Heaven and no, I can’t imagine my life without it.
The past few weeks have been emotional. I’ve cried at the drop of a hat just thinking that I have to say goodbye to so many friends who I’ve truly loved. For some of them, this is the first time we’ll have to part ways since we met in high school or even middle school. And although I’m only moving twenty minutes away from Chapel Hill, I feel like I’m saying goodbye to the campus, too.
There is nothing like Carolina. There is no feeling more fulfilling than walking on Polk Place on a sunny day, seeing the azaleas bloom by the Old Well, or singing the alma mater after the Sunset Serenade. This place had given me more than I could have ever asked for, including some admirable friends, surreal experiences and a community that I never thought I would have, one that is outrageously loyal, truly Southern, intelligent and loving.
I have never wanted my college years to be the best time of my life. I like to think that the best is yet to come. But honestly, this is going to be hard to beat.
Thank you, Carolina, for the best housing staff on the face of the planet, for one of the best journalism schools in the nation, for naps in Memorial Hall, for nights at Top O. For design marathons in Carroll and games in the Dean Dome, for cookies from Lenoir and omelets from Rams. Thank you for still giving me chills when I walk on campus and for the memories that I will never forget.