I have now finished three semesters at my undergraduate school, Coe College. That means a year and a half has passed since I graduated high school. Sometimes that's more difficult to believe than others. Most times, though, it's an urgent reminder to keep going.

During the summer of 2014, before my senior year started, I planned to drop out of high school. I spent too much time Googling things like, "Colorado high school drop out," and, "how can I drop out of high school," and, "successful high school drop outs," and "paperwork to complete to drop out." A few weeks before school started, I knew I would do it. I knew it. There wasn't another option or a reason to not go through with it.

Before getting into that, those who don't know my background need to read this paragraph. I grew up loving school. I was an avid reader, and one of my favorite days was in third grade. My teacher took me to the "big kid library" upstairs (with the sixth graders) because I had read everything downstairs. Numbers made sense, and math was my favorite daily homework. I loved science experiments--especially Super Science. School was my thing. I spent 13 years with a 4.0. I received every possible academic award, honor roll mention, and honor society membership. Far too many spelling bee certificates sit in my basement at home, and small trophies and medals from math & science competitions are buried away. The point is that I belonged in the academic world.

That never stopped. Even when I wanted to drop out. My love of learning and my desire for knowledge and my connections to books never disappeared.

So what happened?

It was the first day of my senior year when I said anything. A new teacher used "Cross The Line" as an ice breaker. She said, "Cross the line if you've ever seriously thought about dropping out." I crossed it. My classmates stared in awe.

What happened was hurtful. The people who were supposed to be my friends either said their "lives would be better off without Lacee in them" or spread that phrase around my school.

What happened was a lack of inclusion. I never played sports in a sports-fueled school. I quit the only agricultural club in a rural farm town. I refused to join the business club because I didn't want to support the corporate world I despised (but I was too young to have such thoughts, I didn't know anything).

What happened was hatred. I did not feel loved. I did not feel liked. I did not feel welcome. And I did not feel safe. Walking into school was like walking into hell. The drive out there was torturous.

And that is something that far too many students face.

Thankfully, I am what I consider a lucky one. I made it beyond the stage because I had a couple people who would not let me quit. They forced me to get out of the town that was dragging me down. They helped me receive the gift of further education: college, ten hours away.

This isn't for me. This isn't for anyone to comment, "I'm sorry," or to express any pity. This is for the kids who don't see the end. This is for the kids who don't think they can go on anymore. This is for the kids who want to quit--especially the ones who don't have a couple people who won't let them do it.

This is for you. Please believe me when I say it will get better. You will reach a point during finals week that you want to quit again, but you won't because you know how hard you fought to get there. You will reach a point in the middle of a professor meeting that you want to use your past as an excuse, but you won't because that's not who you are anymore. You will reach a point where you realize that you made it. You made it to the point where you no longer even use the word "quit" because you only know how to keep going. Do that.

Keep going.