At the beginning of the year, I decided to name my column “Social Butterfly.” Each fall, monarch butterflies migrate from the U.S. and Canada to Mexico. Similarly, next fall, I, Westview’s social butterfly, will be making my own great migration from San Diego to Los Angeles. 

Looking back at it, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted high school to end before it actually did: when I was up at 2 a.m. cursing my math textbook, avoiding a class for the third week in a row, or losing a friend. But in all those moments, I felt alone. 

Now that high school is finally coming to a close, I’m forced to migrate out of my second home that I’ve sadly outgrown. 

I wonder where I would have been if my connections hadn’t nurtured me. Like a butterfly’s flight path, seeking sweetness from flower to flower, my journey has been far from linear and required so much support from others. 

What if health technician Robin didn’t let me use her bathroom, Ms. Beccarelli and Ms. Annie didn’t comfort or make small talk with me in the Wolverine Center, Captain Adams didn’t believe I was stronger and more capable than I thought I was, Mr. Spiess didn’t think I was funny, Mr. Wenger didn’t think I was worth it, or Mrs. Ho didn’t “adopt” me?

The realization of what I was losing struck me on Tuesday. Fe Lapitan, a friend and custodian, gave me a hair clip with a light pink flower and a small, silver gem in the center; it felt like a parting gift. Abe Lauricio, also a friend and custodian, gave me a hug and looked at me with pride in his eyes as I told him some good news. My friends waited, and as we walked to the parking lot and talked about something so juvenile, my cheeks hurt from smiling and I was out of breath from laughter. I realized as I was walking home alone that it’s a shame good things have to end just as they start to get so good. 

In past columns, I’ve touched on an unwavering loneliness that has filled parts of my time at Westview. But I realize that in this interconnected web of support I’ve created, I know that regardless of how I feel, I will never truly be alone again, no matter how hard I try. 

I hope I made as big of a difference on this campus as it has made in my life. I won’t be able to make a friend dress up as a pregnant mother for a presentation, sing a duet in front of a class, or frankly make much of an impact in the large classes I’ll have in college. So I thank you, Westview, for indulging me in my adventures these four years from caterpillar, to chrysalis, to butterfly. 

Butterflies aren’t perpetually flying; they, ultimately, have a destination, and I guess I’ve reached mine on this journey—but oh, how beautiful it’s been to be your social butterfly here at Westview.  It’s time I spread my wings and fly.