Editor’s Note: Traditionally, graduating seniors working at The Collegian are given the chance to write a farewell note at the end of their tenure at CSU.

My deepest fear is living apathetically.

And as I sit here after seven attempts of writing farewell to The Collegian, I’ve resigned myself to making this the last one. It’s two hours before this piece is technically due, so I actually don’t have much of a choice.

But more importantly, I’ve just realized these past two years weren’t the best of my life as I was initially framing them.

They were the most visceral.

So, here are three honest takeaways from fighting a phobia and maximizing my time at the greatest publication ever created, according to sources.

People give purpose

I’d have no business telling other people’s stories if I wasn’t a sorry sucker for human connection.

To the man I owe everything, thank you for taking a chance on me, and just know you’ll always be the most talented writer I will ever work with. I’m certain I didn’t manage to fill your shoes, as many warned were enormous, but I’m happy to have built upon your legacy.

To those who spared me a slice of their seemingly endless knowledge, you’ve made me smarter and more confident. You helped me look like a better writer than I am, probably more often than I know, so here’s one last fact for you to check for me: the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Thanks in advance.

To the ones I might not ever see again after I walk off campus doing my best John Bender impression, just know I’ll treasure our time together, finite as it was.

And then there’s the rest of you.

You better be at my wedding. Also, call me out of the blue every once in a while for crying out loud. We both know I’ll forget to.

But seriously, you mean the world to me, and you made sticking around worth it entirely.

I never expected to find a family in college as, what you all refer to me, an old man, but it happened in the absolute best way possible.

Love ya.

Struggle is the reward

My farewell will get lost in the digital archives of The Collegian among other trivial sports stories I’ve written. Even the grandest tales of triumph and tragedy will last in people’s minds for 10 seconds, an hour, a day, a week, even.

But beyond that, things are easily forgotten.

While I surely haven’t produced much worth truly remembering in my time here at The Collegian, that isn’t what will stick with me.

Learning how to fail will.

It’s a powerful skill, and you can’t ever really obtain it. Annoyingly, it’s one of those things you have to do continually, and it doesn’t always offer a benefit in return.

In these past few years, I’ve suffered my greatest defeats, not all of them redemptive yet.

But man, those days grinding in the basement of the Lory Student Center, smacking my head into my screen while trying to come up with an eloquent way to say, ‘Our football team sucks,’ were unbearably epic.

And leaving Canvas or Moby well after midnight with that strange kenopsia were groggily euphoric.

So lean into it, whatever you’re doing right at this exact moment.

TLDR: Endeavoring is great, blah, blah, blah.

Sidenote: I probably spent more time toiling over perfecting hooks than I did with my mom in my stint as a sports reporter. I’m not sure if that means I wrote a ton of stories or need to be a better son — maybe both.

Time is a cruel mistress

No shocker here.

My year went from, ‘I can’t wait to graduate and get this over with’ to, ‘Oh shit, I need to do all these things still before I have to leave’ to, ‘Let’s just stay a few more minutes.’

Tonight marks the third night in a row I’m here in the LSC, accompanied by nothing but the faint sound of KCSU’s autoplay music and the deep drone of the air vents. I’m almost certain I’m the only person left in this building, and yet I can’t seem to find a good reason to leave.

Now I’ll really sound like a geezer here, but you don’t have as much time as you think.

And this won’t be the last time I have this not-so-profound epiphany, but I’m also pretty sure it’s impossible to prevent it.

Just try and sit down somewhere when you can, looking at, listening to and feeling everything before life forces you to get up and move on.

Up next

In true fashion, I’m close to hitting my maximum allotted word count.

So, I’ll keep this answer brief: I don’t entirely know what to do next, but I’ll start by putting a period on this sentence.

Michael Hovey was the 2024-26 sports editor of The Rocky Mountain Collegian. He can no longer be reached at sports@collegian.com, but he can be reached on Instagram @michaelhoveymedia.