To quote Rob Pattinson in his little known but much loved (by me) indie movie “How to Be,” “I think I’m having a quarter-life crisis.”

Yes, I know that I am 17 and not 25, so this is really a pre-quarter-life crisis, but I think the feeling is the same (and also I might only live until I am 68, in which case 17 is actually a quarter of my life).

Anyway, my point is that I am in disarray, denial, and sheer panic. My heart is racing, my palms are sweating, and my leg is shaking (sorry, Cassie, I know how much that annoys you). My voice is unsteady, my vision is blurry, and my heart is aching.

No, I’m not having a heart attack, I’m realizing that I am actually going to have to leave STA.

In a couple of short weeks I will be forced to leave behind my favorite seat in advisory, secret elevator rides, and trick-or-treating. No longer will I be able to write pep-rallies, lead cheers at games, or perform in student productions. I will forever be removed from a community of red plaid skirts, star cookies, and cat funerals. I know STA will always be a part of me, but let’s face it, once they shove that diploma in my hands I can never be a member of this community quite like I was before. STA has molded me like a piece of clay from Ms. Dibble’s room and shaped me into the person I am today.

And as much and as much as I hate to admit it, newspaper at STA has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

Sure newspaper forced me into roughly seven all nighters (and when I say all nighters, I mean I literally did not sleep more than 2 hours), countless awkward conversations (including Twi-hard moms at the New Moon premiere), and an average of about 3.5 announcements per week (are you following the Dart on twitter? yeah, thought so); but it was all worth it, because newspaper gave me power, newspaper gave me a voice.

Newspaper gave me a venue to stand up for what I believed in in my columns, to share people’s stories in my videos, and to make people laugh in my blog. Newspaper pushed me to do my best, and taught me to work because I wanted to do my best, not because I wanted a good grade. Newspaper taught me to choose my words carefully, and showed me first hand how stories can affect to communities around them.

Newspaper has challenged me, frustrated me, and deprived me of sleep, (and I have to admit that I am heaving a huge sigh of relief as I write my final piece for the Dart) but I love you Dart, and I will miss you terribly.

I will miss our late nights in Mr. Thomas’s room together, my quality time with my- uhh… I mean- the Dart’s Mac Book Pro, and the hours of frustration on Final Cut Express figuring out just what a capture scratch drive really is. I will miss Madalyne’s panic attacks on publication night and Kathleen’s snide commentary. I will miss every little thing about the Dart. Truth be told, high school wouldn’t have been the same with out it.