I have been a part of the Thunderword publication since late 2023, nearly as long as I have been attending Highline College. As I prepare to graduate, I am experiencing increasingly bittersweet pangs in my chest whenever I consider that saying ‘good morning’ to my friends here will no longer be a daily routine. Thankfully, the sweet outweighs the bitter – overwhelmingly so.

Seven years ago I moved out to Washington on my own; in those seven years, I’ve worked as a forklift driver, truck dispatcher, salesperson, and occasional freelance wedding officiant, all the while slowly building up the courage to call myself a writer. For me, ‘writing’ has always been synonymous with ‘belonging,’ with each new project being some kind of attempt at reaching out to the people around me, and trust me – I have tried every possible way to reach out.

My pre-college journey has taken me through Texas, Florida, New York, Illinois, and California, eventually landing me at the Tukwila Food Pantry, where I currently serve on its board and happily pass out tomatoes on a weekly basis. As I continue to write my bi-monthly-ish blog and volunteer at the pantry, I’m setting my sights on using my degree to become a social worker, then eventually an ESL teacher.

I originally intended to major in English Literature, first aiming to teach at high school – an environment where I can so clearly recall peaks of my own anxiety and fear for the future. Personally, the decade between high school and college felt nomadic; four years was spent in the U.S. Marine Corps, then I traveled alone with varying degrees of success in finding places where I could say I ‘belonged.’

The thing is, life often takes us beyond where we think we belong. Sometimes it takes extra work to plant our roots, but Kara Stuart, the Thunderword’s faculty advisor and my friend, is an expert at helping students plant their roots. She’s responsible for the climate that allows so many to feel welcome  – so much so that they unravel their burdens at the door, lean back on the couches, and create their ideal world in the form of writing, photography, and design.

Kara is the kind of teacher I want to be: simultaneously knowledgeable and curious, intellectual and warm. In the spirit of such contradictions, only she could make a weekly-released newspaper with constant deadlines and expectations the calmest room on campus. The fact that I’m as caffeinated as I am is a testament to how the world and all its panic stops at the newsroom door.

That panic still holds fast beyond these doors, however, and the friendships that help us weather storms do not make those storms go away. That’s just how life is. Since coming out as trans, my own transition has been slowed because the healthcare I receive from the VA has been halted, following our administration’s executive orders. I’m so glad I’ve come out and been honest about my new name, but I’d be lying if I said today’s headlines didn’t spike my blood pressure on a daily basis.

The onslaught of these parts of my life have been heartbreaking, none more so than witnessing good people be victimized and persecuted by a system that (even under the best of circumstances) was not made with them in mind. It is unfair. I’ve lost friends and family to an ideology that prevents proper conversations and exchanges of ideas. I have lost loved ones who were trying to make a life for their family here, under the guise of a freedom that my nation can–but won’t–fulfill. 

I see young queer folks struggling in a similar way, and I am pleading with anyone struggling, to hold fast to their friends and family whenever possible. Shitty people will always exist, but it’s just unrealistic to live a life limited by a bigot’s imagination. Just find the community that accepts you and drives you to be better, even when the world isn’t what you need it to be. Whether or not we like where we are, it’s incumbent on us to consistently grow. 

For better or worse, how we treat others does affect our own health. It’s why I feel the best when I’m treating others well, and it’s also why every billionaire eventually starts to look like a frightened monkey skeleton. But I digress.

I’m pleased to cap off this farewell with a gesture of appreciation and gratitude to the friends I’ve made, all of whom couldn’t be included in this because my hands are already very tired from typing and I’ll still be able to text them, so it’s not that serious.

Still, Mavrie Durham, my friend and fellow editor/student has been a highlight of my time here. It’s nice to know that I’ve met an investigative journalist before she strikes it big and the world sees her capabilities. Mavrie created the ThunderPod, Highline’s first and only podcast, and is taking over as the lead editor in the coming quarters. That sentence alone tells me everything I need to know about the Thunderword’s ever-increasing success.

Mel Velasco is a fantastic person; she’s a photo editor, an incredible photographer, and the creator of this publication’s very first Spanish articles. Mel is among the most generous people I’ve ever met. She’s kind, dependable, and patient – unfailingly so, no exceptions.

Evelyn Rissell just finished her first quarter at Highline and the Thunderword, and her curiosity and jealousy-provoking wit have breathed life into the publication’s burgeoning relationship with the MaST Center. So much of our ongoing progress with MaST articles, podcast interviews, and video projects are owed to Evelyn’s enthusiasm and desire for quality.

Thank you Kara Stuart, for everything. Thank you students and faculty, for allowing me to participate in this community. My parting message is for anyone who finds these words under any circumstance: you belong here.

Liv Lyons has been an editor for the Thunderword since 2023. Their short story blog, “Loser Pulp“, is released twice a month.