Throughout my life, I've always been known as a quiet kid.

By that I mean that I was the type who would feel sick at the very thought of doing a task as simple as standing up in front of my sixth grade class to read an English paper I had written. My uncle has made jokes that he rarely hears me speak more than five words at a time, and the list goes on. So surely I was the last person anyone would expect to work at a radio station by my own accord, let alone fall in love with it.

Of course, I do love music. I spend hours memorizing lyrics to my newest favorite song, blast my headphones at the loudest volume to drown out the rest of the world, and always have Spotify open and playing music throughout the day. Majority of my usual wardrobe consists of a shirt with some song lyric or band logo plastered over the front, and I usually time how long it takes me to do something by how many songs I've through.

Suffice to say, music makes up a large part of my interests and my days, but I never thought that I would go beyond my status as a fan and appreciator of music. After band practice with a flute followed by two years of guitar practice reaped few improvements, it became clear that I am not musically inclined and that it would be far better for the world if I stick to singing in the shower (sorry mom and dad), and leave it at that.

About a year and a half ago, however, I found myself standing in the middle of my school's radio station on a whim and by a trick of fate, and became immediately enamored by it, and I knew that I wanted to be a part of it. To spend a few hours a week listening to music and meeting cool people with similar music taste? How could I not be interested?

From there, it was relatively smooth sailing. I made a few great friends who I don't think I ever would have crossed paths with otherwise, which would be more than I could have asked for, but it got better. At first, the very idea of turning on the mic and speaking, broadcasting my voice to whoever happened to have the misfortune of tuning in at that exact moment, brought back memories of sixth grade. I remembered how I had to read a paper and my hand shook so much that I couldn't even read the paper, let alone force words to come out of my mouth.

I was nervous and considered walking away from a place I had come to quickly fall in love with, all because my anxiety was reaching a new height. That is, until it was posed to me a new way: I wasn't speaking to anyone, only myself. No listener in their car could see me at 7 a.m., with my hair pulled up in a messy bun and dark circles under my eyes from a long night of homework. No one could see me in the booth, and anyone who could was my friend. I wasn't talking to strangers, but I was having a conversation with my friends.

At first it sounded like a cliche, just another reiteration of imagining that everyone in the crowd was in their underwear. I thought it would never work, but I was desperate for a remedy, and it worked. I didn't think about whoever might be listening, because I was telling a joke to my friend, and that was what mattered.

After joining the radio station, I can only say that my confidence levels have grown considerably. Not only have I met some of my best friends through the station, but speaking on air has eased some of the anxiety that used to haunt me. Suddenly I'm not as scared of speaking in front of people, all because I speak to my friends and a microphone a few times a week.

Why do I love the radio station? Because I'm not sure where I'd be without it.