Two years ago, I was a sophomore in college about to end a five-year relationship with my first boyfriend. I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t like who I was. When looking forward at my junior and senior years, I was completely at a loss.

And, even though you’ve heard this story many times before, I have to tell you again. If only so it’s forever solidified in print how my life changed walking into The Beacon Room, I have to tell you again.

 

Usually, you hear these kinds of stories when a married couple explains how they met: a Romeo-and-Juliet-type love at first sight.  Nonetheless, since I am inclined to dramatics, I have had a slightly similar experience myself.

 

There I was, walking into the first Beacon meeting of the semester,--as well as my first newspaper meeting of all time--a ball of complete anxiety in an unfamiliar environment.  And there at the table was Opinion Editor Madison Hepler, an absolute powerhouse of knowledge, empathy and hilarity, the woman I would later grow to recognize as the other side of my coin, my platonic other half and a fellow INFP, life path number six and sensitive artist.

 

And, wouldn’t ya know, she had a sunflower tattoo, a flower that my mother doodled around the house as I grew up.

 

And, wouldn’t ya know, she asked if anyone would be willing to write about David Becker, a boy who had recently gotten away with sexually assaulting two girls, a topic I had always been passionate about.

 

And, wouldn’t ya know, I was extremely willing to write that article.

 

And, just like that, something clicked:  As I continued writing for Op/Ed, I quickly learned that this was a woman I can connect with on an intellectual and emotional level.  And, come to find out, she also made me laugh at the drop of a hat, at almost literally nothing but inflection and silly words.

 

Pal, you took my hand and brought me into a world that completely changed my life. Without the Beacon, I would be a completely different person, and I wouldn’t be surrounded by the beautiful, positive individuals that I operate my life around.

 

Most of all, if I didn’t join the Beacon, I wouldn’t have met you.

 

In fact, I just want to use this opportunity to thank you for everything you’ve taught me these two years we’ve known each other. You’ve taught me that it’s okay to think with my heart and soul instead of my brain.  You’ve taught me how to look like a badass in a dope pair of mom jeans. And, most importantly, you’ve taught me the value of being an individual and the absolute vitality of loving myself. Through loving you, I saw everything good about myself reflected back at me.  Immediately appreciating your quirks has taught me to appreciate mine. Urging you to never change yourself has made me realize that maybe I don’t need to change myself.

 

I also am so admiring of your heart and your eagerness to take care of others.  When we’re older and (hopefully) (PLEASE) richer, we’ll look back and laugh at the way we would dump mason jars of coins into the Coinstar, buying each other gas and McChickens depending on which one of us was poor this week. We’ll laugh at the way we watched seasons five and six of “The Office” every night because we were too apathetic to give a damn.  We’ll look back and laugh at all the times we sang in the car together, bitched about our day and shared lukewarm coffee out a ceramic mug as we roll into Troester’s class ten minutes late (when, really, we got there five minutes late and were too anxious to walk in).

 

I know we both have bad days, and I know we both can be depressed balls of emotion.  But another thing you taught me, Maddie, was that my mental illness is not a burden and it doesn’t have to define me.

 

Believe me when I say, I have never had a friend like you. I love you with my whole heart, more purely and full than I ever thought

 

I could love a friend. And I will always be here for you to tell you why.