Well, desk, it looks like this is it. After a short year and a half as the features editor, my time is drawing to a close.

I know, I know. It’s hard on me too. All the good times, the late deadlines, the spilled coffee and cookie crumbs, the impromptu ukulele concerts. It’s hard to believe all of that is behind us.

But, without a doubt, deciding to spend time with you was the best decision of my college career. You’re a pretty great desk. And you know, the people at the other desks in the office aren’t half bad either.

You’ve been good for me, you see. You inspired me to go talk to actual people, even though I’m a bit of a grumpy introvert at heart, and I found out it can actually be pretty fun. You inspired me to write better content, to find better stories, because I would feel guilty if I didn’t.

You inspired me to do all sorts of things: drive halfway across the state to hang out with and talk to people at Standing Rock, ruin my shoes scaling a garage to get the perfect aerial shot of a raging party, sleep outside in 40-degree weather with some random guy just for the heck of it.

You changed me for the better. I’m grateful for it.

Even though I’m dreading it a bit, I think my departure might be good for you.

The collection of stress balls won’t be your problem anymore, although I might leave some behind for my successor (it’s a stressful job). The stack of past newspapers that has been accumulating throughout my tenure will disappear — no longer a burden for you to bear. The vest I keep in your drawer in case I need to look fancy for an interview (as I recall, that happened exactly once) will no longer take up your space.

I’ll remember you. I’ll remember the late nights, long conversations on everything but the newspaper, co-writing editorials, arguments over whether or not Sally the succulent is in fact a real plant or if Erik has duped us all with an amazing fake. I’ll remember the long meetings planning stellar special editions. I’ll remember playing music in a mournful post-election haze.

Don’t worry though. I’ll still be here, working on my master’s — you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll stop in for lunch, just for old times’ sake. We can reminisce. I’ll still write some, just not as often. You’ll have a new occupant and I’m sure everything will be great.

And so, my dear desk, it’s time for me to go.

Stay fly, you beautiful beast.