Dear Horizon staff, 

Four years ago, I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. All I really knew was that I liked writing and I thought I was a good writer, and that I loved to talk with others. Four years later, I can tell you exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life – it’s this. 

Something that I don’t think a lot of people know about me is that I really did not have a great high school experience. I wish I could say that I loved it more, and that I’ll look back on these last four years as the best days of my life, and that I’ll never forget my time here, but I know that none of those statements is entirely true. I was bullied for a large portion of high school and had to accept the hard truth that not everyone is going to like me – as a theatre kid, this was a hard truth to learn. 

Everything from raising my hand in a class, to answering a question, to pointing out a scheduling issue in a GroupMe, or to questioning someone as to why I was not invited to a hangout, I feel like everything that ever came out of my mouth would be under constant scrutiny. Someone would look for an opportunity to make fun of me, to point out how I was wrong, to make me feel less than or othered.

With Horizon, I never felt like that. As much of a cliché as it seems, writing truly is a creative outlet. Horizon gave me a place where I could actually speak my mind without being criticized, where I could be an active member of my school community and not go home asking my mom between tears what I could possibly be doing wrong in terms of finding a friend group. While this lack of criticism could certainly be in part to the lack of people who actually read Horizon, I’ll keep telling myself that it’s because I’m liked and respected here. There is honestly no other place in this school where you can write about abortion, the baseball team, and Taylor Swift in the same publication. 

I could spend time telling you all the obvious lessons and skills that Horizon taught me—how to be a better writer, how to edit, the dreaded InDesign—but I think my last few paragraphs would be better spent telling you about the intangibles of Horizon, the things that don’t click until you have three weeks left here and suddenly you’re wishing you had more time to put together your last edition. 

First, this is one of the only clubs in the school where you can have more authority over a senior as an underclassman, so don’t be afraid to use it. Don’t let this become a power trip, but once you’re an editor, you become boss.

Secondly, most mistakes are never that deep. I always say this, and I want to remind you all, especially those of you who are new to layout: you are between the ages of 15 and 18 years old laying out a 16-32-page paper, and it is impossible for it to be perfect. You know you do your best, and that’s what matters.

Finally, don’t be afraid to tell the stories that no one else wants to tell. There is always someone in this building who has something special that deserves to be shared. No matter how big your grudge against someone is, add that idea to the story list. Your future self will eventually thank you for it.

And so, for the last time, this is Gianna Longo, reporting for Horizon.