Maroon will never just be a color to me, regardless of how much time passes after I hang up my cap and gown. Burgundy hues and wine-red tones don’t just belong to fabric or paint; they embody the essence of what it means to be a Wildcat. As I soak in these final days, I’m taking everything with a grain of salt, unsure whether these moments will slip through my fingers in the blink of an eye or dig their claws in and stay with me forever.
If I told you the amount of times I have tried to write this farewell letter, you’d probably think I’m a nutcase. For the life of me, I just can’t seem to find the right words. I have at least three other drafts sitting in my notes app that just didn’t feel right; didn’t feel enough. I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way, but the moment I started to try to rewrite these last four years into words, I felt like everything hit me all at once. The fact that it’s really over. That these halls that I’ve circled endlessly just to waste time during bathroom breaks will soon just be a memory. That the people who once felt like strangers turned into the faces I saw every day. That somehow, in four short years, we went from wide-eyed freshmen to the ones saying goodbye.
One thing I learned quickly was that high school was never about the perfect transcript or the popularity rank, not like I used to believe when I romanticized it through Disney Channel originals. It turned out to be something much more real. Much more mine. The Wildcat roars under the Friday Night Lights, voices shouting in unison for something bigger than ourselves. The echo of the fight song in the gym during pep rallies. The adrenaline of spirit weeks and the thrill of preparing for homecoming nights. Brainstorming article topics as Editor-in-Chief. Walking the ramp, alone peacefully, with my AirPods in and a new semester playlist playing. Sitting in my best friend’s car for an hour during lunch, just talking about life. Somewhere between the noise and the calm, the deadlines and dances; that’s where I found belonging. That’s where I found myself.
If you were to tell freshman Kayleigh that she would be applying to study journalism in four years, she would’ve thought you were out of your mind. Back then, I couldn’t imagine writing anything outside the bare minimum for class. My essay grades weren’t pretty, and the thought of writing for anything other than a grade seemed utterly useless. But somehow, I found a home in the school newspaper. I was hesitant to even give it a shot, unsure if I was good enough. Though, the words came easily, and in a way I never expected, writing became the thing that helped me figure out who I want to be. Newspaper has shaped my high school experience in ways I would have never predicted, opening up a future I’m now excited to pursue in college and gifting me some of the most authentic and talented friends.
As I reflect on everything that’s led me to where I am today, I realize my family was always the foundation of my journey. Through every moment of doubt and every hurdle I faced, the people around me have been my biggest source of strength. I owe so much of my growth to them. To my mom, I don’t think I can ever fully express how deep my love is for you. You were the first face I ever cracked my eyes open to, the first hand I ever held and the one who has been there for every step I’ve taken since. From the very start, you’ve been my biggest cheerleader, even when I didn’t show you the gratitude that you deserved. I know I haven’t always been the easiest daughter, but you’ve never given up on me and loved me unconditionally through it all. You’re the strongest person I know, and no one will ever compare to you. You’ve given me more than I could ever repay, and I can only hope to be half the person you are someday. To my dad, I know there were times I didn’t show you how much I appreciated you, but your presence in my life has meant more than words can say. You’ve always been there in your own way, supporting me quietly, making sure I’m okay even when I didn’t know I needed it. We might butt heads, but that’s just because we understand each other in ways no one else does. There’s an unspoken bond we share, one that doesn’t require a lot of words to feel. I may not always express it, but I admire you more than I let on. You’ve shaped who I am in ways I’m only just starting to understand, and I’m thankful for all the ways you’ve shown up for me time after time. I don’t always express it the way that I should, but I hope you know how much I love you. And to my brother Matthew, being your older sister has been one of the most rewarding and challenging parts of my life. Even during the times I seemed distant, you’ve always been my heart, my baby brother. Watching you grow taller than me still doesn’t feel real. To me, you’ll always be the little one, waiting for me to come home from school so we could play together. As life moves forward, know you’ll always be that little brother in my heart, no matter how big you get, or how much you threaten to squish me.
Beyond the family I was born into, I’ve also been lucky enough to find family in the people I chose, the ones who stayed, who grew with me and who made the hard days lighter. Elisabeth, thank you for being my number one, my beautiful and compassionate best friend. You make my life happier just by being in it. There’s not much I remember from middle school, given I trauma-blocked everything prior to the pandemic, but miraculously, one of my most vivid memories is the one fateful morning we walked the halls of Hendrick Middle School together after first period, making awkward preteen small talk about stupid crushes and Mr. Clark’s corny jokes. I never imagined that I’d be here, on the cusp of freedom, with the quiet girl I once only saw as the best flute player in our beginner band class. I couldn’t tell you what it means to me that you’ve stuck with me even through some of my worst moments, like missing half of my high school career with chronic sicknesses, or my inevitable crash-outs, meltdowns and whiny rants in your car. Genuinely, I consider myself to be one of the luckiest people to have been able to meet you all those years ago, and even more blessed to have the privilege of calling you my best friend. I love you. To the friends that made high school bearable, you’ve each brought something special into my life. Cin-Hui, second period was one class I actually looked forward to because no matter how sleep deprived and drained I was, it was never dull with you. Our AP course rants, dark-humored jokes and our shared looks of mutual academic defeat somehow felt like a breath of fresh air. Your chaos is comfort, please never lose it. Guillie, Jaelynn and Amayah, joining Yearbook halfway through the year felt like a risk, but you three made it feel like I’d been there from the start. My senior year wouldn’t have been the same without our gossip and secret exchanges in the editors’ office. You made it one of the best decisions I made all year, and I’m so glad I found y’all right when I needed to most. To my fluties, Anna Sofia, Libby and Alex, through every shift and season of high school, you three were steady. Meeting y’all freshman year in band was the start of everything that made high school so unforgettable. Now you all are off flourishing in college, and even with thousands of miles between us, a part of each of you stayed at Plano Senior, with me. I use the lessons you’ve taught me every day. Thank you for being the kind of friends that distance can’t shake. From the beginning, you made high school feel like home.
In the end, I want to appreciate all of the overwhelming tests, the pressure and even my own breaking points for pushing me to work a little bit harder and grow a thicker skin. I will always, no matter what, remember the obstacles I had to conquer throughout the years, on top of my academics and social life. The concussion in sophomore year, the jugular clot in senior year and all those little reality lessons that nothing but high school can teach you. Not only am I leaving with a diploma, I’m walking away stronger, wiser and more challenged than the girl I was on the first day of freshman year. And I couldn’t be prouder of her for sticking it out, for maturing and refusing to let the hard days win. So thank you, high school, for making me a fighter.
Wildcat Tales Editor-in-Chief, Kayleigh Campbell, signing off. It’s always a great day to be a Wildcat.
