As graduation takes place in just a few days, I think back to my place and purpose I’ve held during my time in high school. Becoming the Editor-in-Chief for the Liberty Bell this school year was one of those things that not only gave me a place and a voice, but a purpose, too. 

Another thing I am reminded of as I leave this place behind and move to the next is all of the things I wish I could have told my younger self and now have the opportunity to tell all of you. 

So, to all of you underclassmen, rising upperclassmen and especially to the rising seniors, I hope you read this letter and take with you the words you read. 

The main thing I reflect on is the many challenges, setbacks, joyous moments and blessings and everything that I learned through them. It is hard to put into words how or why my mindset has shifted in four years and what I have learned – but I appreciate the fact that growth is not a linear or independent matter. Instead, growth is a combination of the experiences and the people that make us us. 

Going through high school I know you are sitting in that strange mix of fear and excitement that you’re feeling,  and I want to tell you everything will be okay—not perfect, not without pain, but okay in a way that feels safe and steady. You’re about to begin another chapter of your life that will change you in ways you never expected, and I need you to know: it’s not going to be easy, but it will be worth it.

I know you think you have to have it all figured out right away. You won’t say it out loud, but you feel this quiet pressure to be someone—someone likable, someone impressive, someone who doesn’t mess up. You’ll spend so much time trying to be everything to everyone. You’ll chase perfection like it’s something you can hold in your hands if you just work hard enough. 

But here’s the truth no one tells you: perfection is an illusion, and the longer you chase it, the more you’ll forget how it feels to just be.

You’re going to stumble. You’ll cry in your car more times than you’ll want to admit. You’ll walk through hallways feeling invisible some days, and unbearably seen on others. You’ll overthink text messages, wonder if you’re too much or not enough, and question your worth in the silence of your own mind. And still—you’ll keep going.

You’ll also laugh so hard you forget what made you sad in the first place. You’ll find friends who see the real you—the messy, uncertain, trying-so-hard version—and love you anyways. You’ll have teachers who believe in you, moments that make your heart swell, and nights where you feel infinite, like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

But the most important thing you’ll learn is this: you don’t have to do it alone. Growth is not a solo journey. You are not weak for needing people. In fact, the strongest thing you’ll ever do is let people in—to hold your hand through the hard parts, to remind you who you are when you forget, to be a mirror for your goodness when you can’t see it yourself. Let yourself learn. Let yourself be needed.

There will be a version of you that feels like a stranger at times—quieter, more tired, more cautious. That’s okay too. 

Change doesn’t always come with fireworks. Sometimes it’s in the quiet choices you make to keep showing up, to be kind when you’re hurting, to forgive yourself even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.

And here’s something else I hope you know: it’s okay to not know who you are yet. It’s okay to not have a five-year plan, to not have your future tied in a perfect bow. Life doesn’t work like that. The most beautiful parts of it will be the ones you couldn’t plan for—the detours, the friendships you didn’t expect, the quiet victories only you will understand.

One day, you’ll look back at your high school self and feel a wave of compassion. You’ll realize how much you were carrying, how hard you were trying, how quietly brave you were. 

I hope you’ll be proud—not of what you accomplished, but of how you kept going. Even when you didn’t have the answers. Even when you doubted everything. Even when you felt small.

So keep your heart open, even when it hurts.

Keep writing your story, even when the pages feel heavy. And never forget—you are becoming exactly who you are supposed to be.