They are my greatest fear realized: a life abruptly cut short. As the slideshow ends and our school choir stops singing “Halo” by Beyoncé, I take a deep breath. Principal Jackson introduces me, and my inner voice gives me a quick pep talk. You were born for this, she says. I smile at the camera and begin to speak, only to realize I’m still on mute. I’m embarrassed but also grateful for the moment of levity. My hand shakes as I click on the microphone icon and let everyone hear the tremor in my voice.

“Thank you, Principal Jackson. And thank you to my fellow graduating seniors and all your families for being here today.” I take another deep breath.

I realize that commencement speeches are supposed to be filled with wisdom and advice and platitudes about life, but I have to be honest, I don’t think I have it in me to do that this year, nor do I think it would be appropriate. Now, fair warning: If obscenities aren’t your thing, then now would be a good time to turn down the volume on your computers. Because, to put it mildly, this year has been a fucking abomination.

None of us got the senior year we deserved. Four long and tumultuous years of high school warrant some sort of catharsis, and the class of 2023 will never have one. There was no homecoming rally, footballs games, band practices, swim meets, no prom or spring musical or grad night for us this year. We didn’t get to linger at our cars in the parking lot at the end of the school day. We didn’t get to sit at desks, with swear words and doodles carved into them from previous generations of Winchester students. We didn’t get to debate our teachers in person. We didn’t get to hold hands, hug, kiss, or slow-dance with our bodies pressed tightly against each other. We didn’t get to have unpredictable exchanges with our crushes on the way to class. We didn’t get to plan our outfits for the week or skillfully change under a towel in the locker room, desperate not to be seen by our classmates. Or maybe that was just me.

You see, my biggest fear when Mr. Dennery told me that I would be valedictorian was that most of you would spend the bulk of my speech wondering who I was. To answer your question, my name is Par-ees-a Naficy, and yes, I have been a student at Winchester since freshman year. But that doesn’t really answer who I am and all the ways I’ve tried not to be seen by most of you.

I pause for a second, knowing the next part of my speech will be the hardest to get out and the part I want everyone to absorb.