Marching band helped me find myself. There’s no other way to put it. Before ninth grade, I was a shrimpy, nervous, shy kid. I suffered from social anxiety. I completely lacked self esteem. Then marching band started, and suddenly I was apart of something that was so much bigger than myself.  It was one of those things that you always read about, and seem like a fantasy, and I had found it. Along with my newfound confidence, I had made new friends, and strengthened old relationships. My two best friends, a saxophone and a tuba, were my anchors when I threatened to drift out to sea in the new world of high school.  My section, my upperclassman, helped me realize that I was not the first person to go through this, and I would be fine. We were all going to be fine. It was exactly what the freshman needed to get ready for high school, a month of figuring things out. There’s something about the magical feeling you get when you’re surrounded by a massive wall of music, all while moving perfectly in step and in form, that changed you.  After about three weeks of sharing lunches, penguin sliding across our auditorium bannisters, and complaining to each other about fundamentals, our band was packed on a bus and we went to band camp. Now, if you aren’t in band, then there’s something you should know. Band camp is sacred. Truly, it is one of the most amazing things you could ever experience. It’s a week of nonstop band, you eat, sleep, and breath it. For a glorious seven days, we played volleyball on the courts outside our dorms, goofed around in the rec rooms with dance parties and card games, and put together an amazing show. After that, everything fell into the place and we stopped being a band and became a family. It’s the magic of band camp. You can’t be forced into 24 hours a day together, for the seven days of a week, and not feel like all these people are your right arm. I am truly grateful to them for how they have welcomed me with open arms and helped me become confident. I made the right choice in this, and my biggest regret will be when it’s over.