There’s Nothing I Can Say Here That Bruce Springsteen Hasn’t Already Said Better

The screen door slams. Mary’s dress waves. And I can’t come up with a senior farewell that captures my feelings about The Every Three Weekly nearly as well as Bruce Springsteen could.

My story begins like many of Springsteen’s— with a car. I used to drive to standup shows across the Midwest in my pink Cadillac, which was actually a black Ford Fiesta. But after one show in January, I got into a wreck on the highway. No injuries, but my car was totaled, so I couldn’t drive to open mics, leaving me feeling like a rider on a downbound train. With a suddenly large amount of free time, I decided to apply to The Every Three Weekly. If I were as eloquent as Bruce, I’d say that like a river that don’t know where it’s flowing, I took a wrong turn and I just kept going. But alas, I am not.

My first and last semester writing for The Every Three Weekly has been a great experience. I am brimming with emotion about it, and yet no attempt by me to articulate that emotion would be nearly as effective as Bruce’s exuberant whoa-whoa-ing at the end of “Born to Run.” Being emotionally vulnerable in print isn’t my strong suit. So I guess I’ll have to settle for this: Good luck. Goodbye. I’m pulling out of here to win.

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