Dear Burroughs,

Brice Shearburn, Reporter

     In the past month I’ve had a surplus of time to contemplate a lot of things. What I’ve found quite interesting is that school continually seems to cross my mind. More specifically, why I miss something that many, myself included, often complain and try to get out of attending. I’ve come to realize that it’s the little things that are missed the most. When you have invested any number of years of your life into a community of people, no matter how difficult and tedious the workload, the different relationships you form begin to seem like living things; things that right now feel tired of trying to connect with someone through a screen. 

     I’m trying my best to continue to keep them alive; however, it’s difficult to find sustenance from mere memories. Every now and then I can almost imagine myself back at school and hope that I will return soon, and then I open my eyes and I’m back sitting in bed for what feels like days at a time. What seems to be the problem is that the memories obtained in such an environment as Burroughs are irreplaceable, somehow indescribable, and most sadly of all could never be replicated or achieved on a computer. To be away from these experiences and — especially for the senior class — not be able to relish the final few months of your time, evokes feelings of sadness, boredom, and especially fear. The fear of missing out on the moments that are meant to be some of the best and most memorable of your life. That is one of the worst feelings imaginable. 

     To know that you won’t get to sprint through the commons to beat the bell again, to rise in anticipation before “We’re on an X-day schedule!”, to hear someone you’d never expect going on stage to belt out into song, to weave through the masses of people in a noisy yet comforting Haertter Hall, to speed-walk across the quad during a rainy day, to debate with a teacher on a historical event, to stand in the chocolate milk line, etc. I could go on for hours, but what becomes apparent is that even though I said it’s the little things I miss most, those little things, when added up into a physical value, take the shape of our school. It might feel like what you have created at Burroughs is slowly dying and will do so on the cliffhanger of an only halfway filled second semester. However, it’s important to not get stuck on the what-could-have-beens of life, because to do so is detrimental. 

     To the seniors of Burroughs, I know I can’t understand the feeling of mourning you might have for those relationships that you have nurtured and kept alive over the years, but the one thing I might say is to enjoy what you have already been able to experience, and most of all focus on the horizon. Think of the ways in which you can fill that hollow space in your timeline of JBS. If anything, let this enrich later moments in life, and not ruin the current ones. Because as soon as that happens, we have truly lost to our opposition, and Bombers are not the type to let that happen easily.