Senior Spotlight on Desmond Connelly-Zackular

Senior+Spotlight+on+Desmond+Connelly-Zackular

After everything we’ve been through together, I could honestly fill this entire paper with jokes and subtle references spanning throughout our journey from kindergarten to senior year, making it completely unintelligible to all other readers. Whether it be the times we “razzle-dazzled” and threw each other onto the cold wood floor, or the formation (and property) of The Boys, or even an infuriating Lapras and hypothetical rope that got us sent to the guidance office in sixth grade, there are too many memories to fit onto this page. But Desi deserves so much more than that, and I’ll try my best to explain why.

I don’t even remember how we became friends; it just happened as all childhood friendships do. What I do remember, however, are the countless times when Desi stood up for me against bullies looking for trouble, the moments when his artistic talents helped me find my own creativity, the days when the world might as well have revolved around us, since we were the ones who made the most out of it. It’s not to say that our friendship never had any problems; you’re bound to have at least a couple of verbal and physical fights when you’ve known a guy for thirteen years. Desi would almost always win, especially since his punches hit like a truck, but it would always end in a handshake and formal agreement to change the worst parts of ourselves.

It wasn’t until the winter of our sophomore year when I was able to appreciate how far we had come. Desi was hosting one of his now-annual Christmas parties and had invited me over early to help him prepare. We spent the afternoon chopping wood in his backyard, then sat in the chairs surrounding the firepit to appreciate our work as we waited for the others to arrive. Neither of us said a word, and neither of us needed to. There was no need for small-talk; we already knew pretty much everything about each other. We sat in silence and enjoyed each other’s company until guests appeared in the driveway.

I want to finish this essay by admitting the truth about myself. While it pains me to say this, my life is a mess of arrogance, self-righteousness, and blatant hypocrisy. Throughout my life, I have treated others terribly without even realizing it, only to learn about my mistakes when the damage has already been done. During those times, sometimes all I need is a good friend who’s brave enough to call me out on it, someone who understands that there is more to me than my flaws, a lifelong companion that a person like me isn’t worthy of. So thank you, Desi. Thanks for always being there for me.