Before You Go

Dear Serena,

Before you leave for Korea, there's something I need you to know: you are important — to me, and to the quiet rhythm of my everyday life.

Over these past two years, your presence has been a constant. Your smile in 4th period became one of those small, reliable things I could count on — like the background music that makes a scene complete.

And when you told me you were moving, I felt something unexpected: a sudden sense of imbalance, like something vital had been pulled away.

It made me realize — you are like one of those irrational constants in physics: numbers like pi, Euler's number, or the gravitational constant. You can't reduce them to something simple, but they are what hold the entire equation — the entire universe — together.

Without them, the formula breaks. Without you, this place feels a little less whole.

I don't know what life will look like without you in it every day, but I do know this: I'll miss you more than I can say, and I'll be quietly cheering for you every step of the way.

Wherever you go, whatever you do — I hope the world is kind to you. And I hope you'll remember us, just as we'll remember you.