I stood uninvolved in the midst of over 2,000 of my peers my freshman year of high school. I was uninterested in sports. I played basketball as a child but never seriously. I didn't want to do the "band thing". I played the clarinet in middle school and was immediately turned off of it after my encouraging band teacher told me I wasn't really good. I came to high school with the hopes of falling into my own niche.

It didn't happen.

I was different compared to the rest. I was extraordinarily obsessed with music. Everything I lived and breathed revolved around the artists my heart belonged to. I had a passion for photography and the pursuit of social media being a gallery for those who wanted to share their photos.

I craved to be in an environment with those who felt the same.

February of my freshman year, I was accepted onto a prestigious award winning yearbook staff of about 20 "veterans" (students who have done yearbook for more than a year) and about ten newbies (students who were entering their first year of being on staff). I was terrified, intimidated and still unaware of where I fit in.

I spent my sophomore year as a photographer taking mediocre head-shots of uninteresting students while working under an editorial staff that just didn't care about the book being produced. They didn't care, so I didn't either.

Then, everything changed forever.

The summer before my junior year of high school, I attended a two day workshop at a local university with my staff and the yearbook staffs of other high schools in the upstate. We worked on theme development and how to become a leader on our team. It was there where my potential as a designer was tapped into and my success story began.

I was free handing a layout for a spread (the two pages seen when a book is opened) on a piece of blue and white graph paper when the person who was leading the class walked by me. He stopped in his tracks, grasped the sheet that contained my sketch out from underneath my marker and held it to the rest of the class. "This..." he said in a proud voice. "This is what I want."

Was he really holding my outline? Was he really showing it to the rest of the students in that workshop, like I had done something out of the ordinary? I was taken back, alarmed at the fact that I did something that was different from the rest, that somebody finally noticed me.

The rest became history.

I became a designer my junior year of high school and was hands on on every edge of every page in that 2014-2015 yearbook. I embraced the deadlines and fed off of the quick paced energy and urgency within the work place. But still, that wasn't enough. I wanted to be in charge this time. I wanted to show the world what I had to offer.

Then, before my junior year even began, I was guaranteed an editorial position on the staff for my senior year. I became Editor-in-Cheif of my senior yearbook and sat out to rule.

I entered into the school year with one ambition -- to tell the stories of those who have never gotten their voices heard before -- the stories of people like me. I was no longer going to let darkness overtake the testimonies of students who struggled with finding their place within the halls of their high school but instead wanted to bring light to the cards of life they were dealt.

You see, for us -- for those who have been on a yearbook staff -- our books are so much more than pages being held together by a spine. Those simple books are wrapped up in heart felt complexity created by our hands and our hands only. They are an account of history of that current school year and will forever tell it for generations to come. Every page number, every story written, every class photo taken represents something to us beyond the $60 paid for the book. We pay so much more, both financially, mentally, physically and emotionally.

So next time you open up your yearbook, believe in the fact that that book was the beginning of someone's success story. That book was more than just a platform to be signed by all of your closest friends. That book was created on endless hours, infinite amounts of coffee and replayed Spotify playlists. That book paved the way for students who were ready to pursue success using the provided tolls within a classroom setting to affect the lives of those outside of high school.

I am blessed to have had the high school career I did in student journalism and to have been given the opportunity to further pursue it as my future. My resume is filled with success of awards and opportunities that were given to me only because someone believed in me, but most importantly because I believed in myself.

I knew my story was meant to be told, so I started telling the stories of others first, and I won't stop until every voice silenced is heard.