I used to lay down in my backyard all the time, no matter how much my mom yelled at me from my window. The grass would be wet from having been watered and slightly itchy, but it never bothered me because the real focus of my attention was the sky. Some lucky nights I’d be able to see a couple faint stars, the blinking lights of airplanes overhead, and of course, the brightest thing in the sky – the moon.

There’s something about the darkness. Something that made me more reflective than I’ve ever been in my life. I’d stare out and dream of other worlds with strange creatures, yearning to confirm their existence. I’d look into the night and there was a weight in my chest, expanding until I felt like I would explode. I’d feel so small, so insignificant like my problems, my troubles, my worries, and my passions were a drop of water in the expansive ocean that is the universe. The night scared me with its possibilities and for a while I stopped thinking about the worlds that could be out there.

Instead I began to look inwards, to the infinite amount of worlds stemming from within each and every one of ourselves. Ones consisting of our dreams and our hopes, ones where we relive our happiest memories. Our worlds branch between us and connect us to each other.

Over the past 10 years, I’ve had the opportunity to share my many worlds with all of you. And in turn, you’ve done the same. I remember staying late to decorate the gym for the Olympics each year, trying our hardest to scream over the other grades. I remember hopping from FaceTime to FaceTime, attempting to explain molecular geometry to each other the night before a chem test. I remember the last day in March where we thought we’d still be together and have our senior year. We’ve created memories through mutual delight and shared pain, and I’ll treasure them – all of them – as we make our way into the next milestone of our lives.

Sometimes, like when you’re alone with your thoughts, life can be a bit much. Right now, I know it’s overwhelming. But there are people here who love you unconditionally and will miss you. These are the people that you’ve built worlds and lives with. It might be Mrs. Clark, your teachers, your parents or your friends. Don’t let anything keep you down when all these people are rooting for you to succeed.

When I came here in the third grade, this piece of suburbia welcomed me with open arms. Pelham became my bubble. I understand that we’re leaving and many of us will be separated by hundreds, if not thousands of miles. I hope that no matter how far apart we are, as we move on to create and join new worlds, you remember the countless ones that we all shared during our time within the walls of the high school.

Thank you, Class of 2020. It was an honor to be your president.