This is the end, beautiful friends, the end.

This isn’t the last column I will write, but it’s close. So, perhaps “the end is near” is more appropriate. I’m getting my farewell out of the way now so the actual last “Letter Home” isn’t a bummer. More and more I’m seeing the importance of happy endings.

As most of you know, I grew up on the streets of Narrowsburg and in the offices of this newspaper. Soon after I arrived at NYU, I started writing this column.

It first began under the embarrassing title of “Reel Life: At the Bottom” and was originally slated for just six installments, part of a deal with my mom when I wanted to take a semester off from college to work as a production assistant on Ben Younger’s film “Prime.” I upheld my end of the bargain and after successful completion the column continued….

Over the past 10 years, I’ve written about graduating and breakups, boa constrictors and world travels. I’ve written about ups and downs, successes and failures, problems big and small. I’ve written columns I loved and columns I hated. I’ve tried to be as honest and open with you as possible. I’ve always tried to write to one person, I find it far less intimidating that way.

But to be honest recently my columns have gotten harder and harder to write. When they were at their best, they were nostalgic memories of Narrowsburg and my upbringing; I waxed poetic and related my everyday adventures here in New York City. Perhaps the divide between the two has grown in the 14 years since I’ve lived upstate. Re-reading the past few columns my writing has felt a bit lackluster and stale.

It’s gotten harder for me to share; perhaps there is a certain part of growing up that makes one less self-centered—a revelation that the world does not revolve around you. Writing this column feels less and less relatable, a bit self indulgent even.

It’s been an incredible run, and I feel quite blessed to have had the opportunity to have you readers along for my adventures over the past 10 years. “Well at least I’ll get a column out of it,” is a phrase that has given me a quiet strength in my darkest moments, an invisible superpower that I carried with me wherever I went.

This fall I will begin to work for Ben on his next film as his editor. It’s a huge leap forward in my career and feels like a natural bookend to finish my column. Rarely does life give you such emotionally clean arcs.

There is no doubt in my mind that I will miss this. I will miss you. And there is no doubt in my mind I will lament this decision to stop writing. How lucky a thing to be forced to meet a deadline and deliver a story every other week.

So thanks for that, and for everything. There are a few more left, but I just wanted to give you notice. I felt like you deserve it after all these years.