When I was little, I would only write the beginnings of stories. Maybe the story would start out with a mouse or a mouse king, whose familial ties were severed in a bitter, long-lasting feud. But I would never make it more than a few paragraphs in before the mouse king declared war on his own son, and I grew tired and somewhat bitter. So alas, my poor readers (a crowd of zero) would never know what became of the king’s crumbling city and vengeful maiden after all.

I have now written more than 100 stories with both beginnings and endings. Reflecting on those stories, and the years it took to accumulate them, I am also wrapping up a story of my own — one that has not yet been written on paper, but is nonetheless just as permanent.

My dad showed my sister and me the movie “Monsters, Inc.” when we were about 4 years old. I cannot recall the moment myself, but as my dad tells it, when Sully returned Boo to her room at the film’s conclusion, I unsurprisingly broke into a hysterical fit of sobs. As someone who does not cry often, I still cannot watch that scene without my eyes welling up a little bit.

But my twin sister Abby, who was tucked under his other arm in the big brown armchair in the living room, laid there content and beaming. The little girl was home, wasn’t she? She was safe. Whereas I could not help but think that Boo would never be able to see her new friend again — and that was devastating.

There is no right or wrong way to interpret this story. The same can be said for many stories. But one thing remains: The stories we tell have a tangible impact on the people around us.

The weight of the responsibility I have been handed working for Pipe Dream has not been lost on me over these years. I’ve spoken to more people than I can count, all of whom offered diverse perspectives. Every last one of those people entrusted their story to me and allowed me the opportunity to tell that story to others. I had the immense privilege to carry that weight, and that is something I don’t ever want to take for granted.

So I have learned that while there is no right or wrong way to interpret a story, the things we write do affect people. And while there is also no single correct way to interpret a story’s ending, the fact that it ends is unavoidable.

Like Sully and Boo’s journey in “Monsters. Inc.,” everything must come to an end. And like my sister and I proved, tucked under my father’s arms in the living room that night, change comes with conflicting emotions.

My roommates have jokingly called me Mr. Pipe Dream for the past two years. This moment in time has become inescapably woven into my identity. But for all people, there comes a time when you have to take a step back and let something go in order to venture into unmarked, terrifying yet wide-open territory.

One thing is for certain: I would never have had the opportunity to step into this place of the rigid but exciting unknown without the amazing people who have held my hand, and more importantly, listened to me along the way. To feel loved is to feel heard. And the people in my life have heard me every single time.

To my family: Mom and Dad, you taught me not to cave to the unrealistic expectations of others. Abby, I don’t know who I am without you. You’re the best friend who has been there since day one and has not left my side once (even when I would steal your pacifier). Grack, at 13, you are the sweetest kid ever, and every day I strive to be as strong-willed and witty as you.

All of your support has meant more than words will ever be able to appropriately convey, so to my family, I simply say, I love you.

To my roommates: Rachel, Jo, Masha, Haley and Hailey. I could never have done this job, or the rest of college, without each and every one of you. Whether we were the 420 blazers or the Ayres heads or lowly freshmen meeting up for undercooked microwave pasta the first time — I found my sanctuary with all of you.

And to Steph and Dayana, for being honorary roommates who saw me through all of the good and bad and never left my side.

To my assistant news editors: Tresa, Grace and Joseph. I am beyond lucky to call you all my friends. I know there is no way I would have survived this year without all of your undying support and grace. And I will miss all of you more than you’ll ever know.

Tresa, it’s been a crazy ride, and I am so beyond grateful for you. Joseph and Grace, I cannot wait to see all you do next year — just know I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.

To Lia: I’ve watched you lead this paper with a level of dignity and professionalism I can only aspire to. You have consistently provided much-needed support and pushed us through the difficult moments. If I can emulate these qualities even half as well one day, I will have succeeded.

To Brandon: You set the bar incredibly high last year at a time filled with unprecedented events and a more-than-hectic news cycle. I know that I wouldn’t have been half as good of a news editor without your help and example. You taught me how to not just be a good news editor but a good leader, one who puts the people around them first and themselves second. You’ve had abundant grace for me in my moments of error and faith in me, even when I have struggled. I can say without a doubt that I am not only lucky to learn from you, but also to know you.

To our Pipe Dream alumni: Thank you for laying the groundwork that got us here today. The work you did in the years before we stepped foot in this office undoubtedly set us up for our own successes within these walls.

And to the rest of the News and Pipe Dream staff: it has truly been such an amazing three years. I could not have made it here without each and every one of you. Emma and Grace — have the best time next year. You are both going to kill it.

At the end of the day, it is the people who lie at the heart of every good story and of every good ending. And as I continue writing my own, just as Sully had to do in the beloved Pixar film, it will be hard to say goodbye to so many people who have made me who I am today.

So now, as I prepare to turn the tassel, I start writing the beginning of another story. I have no idea what is next. But I know for damn sure it won’t just be a beginning.

Ella Connors, a senior majoring in English, is Pipe Dream’s news editor.