I fell in love with college because I fell in love with journalism. If it weren’t for words, I probably would not still be at the University of Massachusetts.

3,000 miles from home, I stepped foot into my dorm in Southwest Residential Area at the end of August 2019. I was so unsure of what college would look like; I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I’m proud now — though I definitely was not back then — to say that I came to college with the intention of exploring. That was it.

Getting in the way of my exploring, however, was the pandemic and its ensuing consequences. Forget about not having a major — getting sent home in March of freshman year was definitely not in the plans.

Then again, neither was a deep-seated love for storytelling.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I don’t think I knew journalism was something available to me until that second semester, when, through my pickiness, my advisor put it in my schedule. Petrified to speak up, I sat in the left-middle of Brian McDermott’s Journalism 201 class every Monday and Wednesday my second semester of freshman year as I learned how to watch the news unfold all around me. I’ll never forget the vantage point from which I saw the coronavirus move across the country, from the very place I grew up in Seattle to my new home at UMass.

I hadn’t fallen yet, and I’m not sure “falling in love” is what was happening at that point — but what I do know is that I logically made the decision to pursue the field of journalism at that moment in my life. I liked to write, I liked being at the forefront of information and I liked that there was a certain way to do things (or so it seemed). It was logical that I moved down this path. So, when I logged onto my first Zoom call the following fall and saw the faces of my now-mentors beaming at me at the Collegian’s all-staff meeting, I was making what I thought to be another logical move.

What has come with that logic is a bunch of feelings that maybe aren’t so logical: joy, passion, anxiety, fear, deep sadness, pride, grit, responsibility and confusion. I can talk about being logical all I want to, but what has always been different about journalism is its ability to tap me out of my logic and into my humanity. The vulnerability of a reporter to explore something they don’t understand and to get shot down pitch after pitch, to ask question after question and to learn on the job, is immense. What began as a journey that seemed most logical to me has taught me that the most important pieces to that puzzle are the ones that create feeling.

I often wonder where I’d be if I had not spent weeknights on Claire Healy’s Zoom meetings with my peers, learning about international news and politics and about how interconnected we all are, near and far. It’s that same principle that I always keep in mind now, of putting work out not because it will necessarily make a difference, but because it might help people learn how connected they are to something, or someone, they haven’t considered before.

It’s that start that made me keep coming back. It kept newsletters from just about every publication streaming into my inbox over these past three years, and it kept me curious. There are so many things I want to know and so many things I feel as though I’ll never understand.

And that’s what journalism will always be to me — a vehicle to understand the world around me. As it turns out, not knowing is a better tool than you could ever believe. In fact, not knowing and being willing to try put me in newsrooms and on radars I hadn’t thought possible. With every story, I find three more, and with every voice I hear, a new piece of my tapestry gets sewn into place.

If one more person asks me what my plans are after graduation, I might give them a nice right hook to the face. Or I might look them in the eye and tell them that I don’t know. I’m ready to move on, but I’m 22, and I don’t know what I’m doing with the rest of my life — big whoop.

What I could also tell them is that it might be thanks to the Collegian that I’m allowing myself grace and time. This newspaper has made me reflect; it has both torn apart and structured my Type-A priorities, personal and professional. It has given me some of the most stressful, frustrating moments of my college experience, while also gifting me the most rewarding times of my life. The stories I’ve had the privilege of writing, the people I’ve met and the history I’ve been so grateful to be a part of are things that will not leave me.

To Jack, Caitlin, Grace, Luke and Sofi, my beautiful assistants — you made this job bright and encouraging, and you helped me run a news team that would not have succeeded without your collective dedication. I’m so proud of you. Saliha, your understanding and intelligence will never go unseen by me. Joey, thank you for just always being there, no matter the day or time or situation. To my “Collegian House,” Lulu, Catherine and Colin, our memories at Eames will live on. I was so lucky to live and work with some of the most hardworking people I’ve met.

Love is not logical. It can come from a chance encounter; it can come from a deep desire, or an intense feeling. I ended up falling in love with journalism not because it was logical, but because I stumbled into something I both wanted and needed at the right moment in my life. And the Collegian fostered that as if its life depended on it.

Ella Adams was the Head News Editor. She can be contacted at [email protected] and followed on Twitter @ella_adams15.