I’d like to formally apologize.

Last week I wrote a column decrying the behavior of an isolated few. I was derogatory, generally insulting, and overly vindictive. My actions – my words – were immature and solved nothing. Even worse is the knowledge that I abused my medium.

As an aspiring journalist, the power of print can, at least initially, cloud reason and stifle logic – having the means to spread a point of view or influence opinions is quite intoxicating – and though some readers may’ve found solace in the mild empathy I inadvertently relayed, other readers received an overdose of frustration.

Later, when my career goes wherever the fates permit, this lesson will still be at the front of my mind. The role of the media is to observe and report, to hold officials and communities to some level of accountability, and to always, always, always ask, “Who will be hurt and who will benefit from whatever words make it to print?”

I could jump off a bridge and spleck into the ground below, forming an image only seen in Faces of Death movies or abstract art – but I won’t. Why?

Just because someone can do something doesn’t always mean they should.

I, like many people, have a gargantuan ego. I can be excessively condescending and insulting, and though I never intend to permeate any level of animosities, with confidence such as mine it’s hard not to.

I want all students to know it was my temper that prompted a spillage of verbal vomit, my offended pride that was damaged during a fairly inconsequential confrontation of wit, and less any one thing that was said or done by any one of the cool, though sometimes loud, students working on X58.

To students who’ve found themselves in the midst of a clique, the object of mocking tones and insults, know that people will be people. And though you may feel hurt, rejected or belittled, don’t jump the gun and start point fingers before you see if even one of those pointing devices deserves to be pointed at the pointer. If not, then know that some people just don’t click with other people. It doesn’t mean one group is better than the other. It does mean you are alive, and without struggle to help mold one’s character, the ease of a life less agitated might prove to be boring.

Revel in the drama of conflict. Breathe it into your lungs, stand atop the stunted crest in your mind and believe me when I say it’s all going to be okay as long as you stay cool.