A thank you letter from one nostalgic graduate

Nearly two years ago, I received a text from the newly appointed Alligator opinions editor while on a Greyhound bus full of potential sorority girls barreling down Museum Road toward Pi Beta Phi. It read, “Hey. Do you want to have a column in the Alligator?” Immediately, I thought to myself, “Hell no.” Yet for some unbeknownst reason, I texted back, “Sure, when do I start?”

Fifty-one columns, one terrible Alligator headshot and countless references to my mom later, I am now left with one final column, one final opportunity to have my thoughts circulated to thousands of readers. I considered all of the potential column topics I had written down but never completed, with titles like “An ode to interstate pro-life billboards” and “Era of the sad boy: Your self-deprecation isn’t cute.” I considered writing about my fear of post-grad life for the millionth time, but I figured I had already beaten that topic to death long ago.

But in the end, I decided to use this final column as a way to thank all the people, places and things that have played an instrumental role in not only my time as a columnist, but also as a student at UF and resident of this charmingly bizarre college town.

Thank you to all the editors I have had the pleasure of working with over the years: Zach, other Zach, David and Petrana. You all have given me unending freedom to write about whatever outlandish topic I could think of, from Midtown to “Making a Murderer,” and for that I am eternally grateful.

Thank you to anyone who has ever told me that you read my column. It means more than you could ever imagine and has given me the strength to continue writing even when I thought I couldn’t do it anymore. Despite my constant assertion that only three people ever read this column, knowing that maybe more, like, eight people read it has served as my main motivation for the past two years.

Thank you to the countless Gainesville coffee shops where I’ve camped out, written essays upon essays and ingested unhealthy amounts of caffeine. I’m looking at you, Volta Coffee, Tea & Chocolate.

Thank you to the readers who have openly disagreed with my columns. No, I’m serious, thank you. You’ve forced me to learn how to take criticism, open myself up to other perspectives and grow a thick skin. Because of you, I’ve grown and am probably better prepared for the tough, mean, real world.

Thank you to the English department for allowing me to pursue my passion for four years and giving me an excuse to spend an inordinate amount of money on books. Even though I complain constantly about the lack of department funding, its location in the grotesque monolith that is Turlington and the pain of class registration, I’ve cherished our time together.

Thank you to my sorority for teaching me what true sisterhood looks and feels like. Being supported by so many strong, intelligent, hilarious and honestly, kind of weird women has been a life-changing experience. You all have taught me to be comfortable in my own skin, to passionately go after what I want in life and to take the time to get to know people. And how to properly shotgun a beer.

Thank you to my best friends for supporting me through my highs and lows, being my unpaid therapists and being so damn selfless. When I came to UF four years ago, I was genuinely concerned I would spend my undergraduate experience friendless, and now I can’t imagine how I’ll make it without constantly being in a two-mile radius of everyone I care about. Thank you to UF. You will be missed.

Marisa Papenfuss is holding onto her last days as a UF English senior. Her columns once appeared on Tuesdays.