I sobbed so hard I almost threw up when I lost my pencil case last semester. My small, yellow, Choonshik the Kakao friend pencil case disappeared at the end of last November, and I tore apart campus trying to find it. 

Inside was a lead pencil, small pen, eraser and sticky notes, but the reason a part of me died in The Slate office when I realized it was lost forever was not because of the contents. I was inconsolable because the case itself had been a gift from Siwon, my Korean roommate from Soonchunhyang University in South Korea. 

As I frequently talk about, studying abroad was the best decision of my college career. It was also my first time making friends who did not live in Pennsylvania with me, and therefore my first true experience saying final goodbyes. 

I remember seeing my friend Bella off at the bus station and sobbing as she waved from the window. In the back of a taxi, I cried hard because my language exchange partner Uihyeon hugged me for the first and last time when I left campus. I broke down at the airport, hugging my friend Maya before she rushed through customs. 

However, my friends from abroad swore that we would see each other again, so through my many tears, I was not inconsolable. We have kept our oath well, and this past semester alone I saw three of my friends in Nashville, Maya came and visited SU and I will be seeing Bella again this coming weekend in Washington, D.C. 

Our goodbyes in South Korea were not forever, but losing my pencil case was. 

Every day I used that case, I had a happy little reminder of my wonderful roommate. I miss “My Siwon” so much and losing my pencil case felt like I lost a part of her. When I finally embraced that I had lost my case, the one thought that kept me from spiraling is that I hope someone else found it and uses it daily. 

Writing my last article for The Slate feels akin to losing my pencil case. Nothing will be able to replace the time I have spent in this office, going from copy editor to opinion to management. The amount of head space this organization takes up for me is insane, and it is going to leave a massive hole in me after May 11. 

With that said, graduation itself is more of a soft goodbye. I can always return to this university, see my friends again and remember all the memories I have made in the past four years at SU. I am not nearly as upset about leaving Shippensburg as I am The Slate, but the cool thing about academic calendars is that I have seen this coming for years. 

Knowing does not always make it easier, but I have been able to at least plan for my post-Slate life. My goal is to enter the publishing industry, and if things work out right, I’ll be in the bylines of a global magazine in the coming years. 

For now, while I might be leaving group chats and cannot return (as a member) to a Sunday meeting ever again, I know The Slate will thrive long after I am gone. The staff is about 20 people stronger (and sillier) than when I joined in spring 2021, pages are more creative and our content is better with every edition. From now on, I get to join the ranks of previous editor-in-chiefs in peace and watch from the sidelines as my recruits carry on. 

I am forever grateful for my time here, I will miss it dearly, I am crying as I write this, but the end comes anyway. 

Share