Disclaimer: I’m talking about my freshman year of high school, not my freshman year of college.

Anywho, I came from the typical middle school existence. The one where you’re going through the shy and awkward phase, listening to generic boy bands, and being “random xD.” Yeah, that was me and my friends without a doubt. Would I take it back? Never.

No matter how much my friends and I cringe at the embarrassing posts Facebook memories likes to throw in our faces, it was still a good time.

The thing with middle school, though, is that a large majority of us were enthralled with the concept of popularity. I attempted trying out for the modified basketball team because that’s the sport they played. I thought I needed my entire wardrobe to come from Hollister because that’s what they wore.

Things didn’t go as planned for me, but I, fortunately, found my niche and soon realized how meaningless it is to “fit in.”

Freshman year was a defining year where everything changed. I underwent some type of transformation for the better and came into my own as a person.

I grew out of my One Direction obsession and entered the realm of classic rock. You know, the stuff our parents grew up listening to. The lyrics seem more meaningful. Plus, guitar riffs are good for the soul.

I adapted my own trademark look, too. A majority of my wardrobe consists of vintage band shirts, flannels, bandanas, and combat boots. Most days, you’d swear I’m a product of the '80s. Along the way, I was given the nickname “Halestorm.” That will always be a part of my identity.

Towards the end of freshman year, my Honors English class was assigned to anonymously write positive comments about our classmates. Our teacher then proceeded to take these comments and create personal bookmarks for each of us.

I don’t know where my bookmark is anymore, but my favorite comment someone wrote about me was, “She beats to her own drum.” In other words, I do my own thing rather than blend with the crowd. To this day, I still don’t know who wrote that but thank you.