The week before freshmen move-in, I cut my hair the shortest it has ever been, painted my nails bright purple and created my first Instagram account since middle school, despite making a vow sometime around the eighth grade to never get involved in social media.

I was determined to lean into my new surroundings and reinvent myself.

College would be a fresh start. I was in a new city, attending a new school and had new classmates. No one who attended UCA at the time came from my hometown.

Nobody knew who I was, and that meant I didn’t have to be me. I could be a brand new person.

I so desperately wanted to shed the skin of the awkward, weird girl from Trumann and be cool. I wanted to make my name known in any way that I could.

Surprisingly, I did that.

In my first year here, I joined too many organizations to try and count them all now. I was volunteer of the semester for the Student Activities Board in both the fall and spring, took on multiple staff positions for the Vortex magazine, became an official sorority sister and even got the courage to apply for an editor position for The Echo. 

I made a lot of friends, some of whom I don’t talk to anymore, some I talk to almost every day. But here’s a little secret that would have greatly surprised my 18-year-old self, the friends that are still around today didn’t care for cool girl Maci, they love weird girl Maci. 

I love weird girl Maci, too.

As a freshman, I wanted nothing more than to completely erase myself from the girl I was. I didn’t want anything to do with books, cartoons, musicals, Disney — all the things that make me, me. I wanted to hide the nerdy part of myself and pretended to be someone I’m not, someone cool and effortless. 

Turns out, I’m not that good at pretending.

Sophomore year, I made a promise to myself that has since become my life motto: everything you do, do it to honor your younger self.

I began to write letters to my younger self, some apologies, some warnings, some exciting life updates. Above all, I tell her she is loved.

I imagine that girl a lot. She’s twelve years old. She wears plastic purple glasses and owns an endless amount of graphic tees and pink infinity scarves.

It might be cheesy to say, but taking care of her has made me better take care of myself now as a 21-year-old. Those studies that say connecting to your inner child is healing are right.

Since I made that promise to myself, I’m happy to say I have a better sense of purpose. 

I made friends who share the same interests and don’t judge my somewhat childish tastes. I’ve reconnected to old passions like writing fiction and poetry. I even spent last semester going to school in Salem, Massachusetts, just because I fell in love with it on a trip years ago and promised myself I would come back one day. At Salem, I took courses I knew my younger self would love, like fashion and theater. 

This semester, I’m in a fiction writing class that middle school Maci, who dreamed of being a published author, would have done anything to take.

I’ve reached out to old internet friends who I first met over a decade ago, and it’s been so rewarding seeing them as the adults they’ve become while being able to reminisce on past memories. Walking to class each morning, I put my earbuds in and I listen to the same music I listened to years ago, dancing in my room before going to bed on a school night.

It’s nice to know that, in the words of the great Hannah Montana, “You’ll always find your way back home.”

I’ve learned so much through my time here at UCA, but the most valuable lesson I’m taking away from my college experience is to just be yourself.

It’s hard to think of a way to end my last print Echo article, so I’ll share a quote from my favorite childhood role model, Alex Hirsch: “Stay curious, stay weird, stay kind and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

Maci England, signing off.