It’s clear at this point that I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Well, I had some friends, just not the kind who would want to hang out with me after school, or before school … or during school.

These days I have plenty of friends who I love! One of my closest friends is actually someone who ignored me for most of middle school. His name is Sam. Not too long ago I brought up our previous nonfriendship at a party and he said, “What? I was totally your friend in middle school. In fact, I was your only friend!”

Then another girl we went to middle school with heard him and said, “No, I was his only friend.” Which may sound like they were saying that I had two friends growing up, but what they were really saying is that no one could believe that anyone else would ever be my friend.

I honestly felt alone. There was one time when we were playing football in the courtyard (I was picked last) and I tripped and slid headfirst on cement (probably why I was picked last). My face was bloodied and covered in asphalt and kids just stared at me. No one rushed to help me. No one even asked if I was okay. As the school counselor led me out of the courtyard to the nurse, I thought, If you had friends, they would have surrounded you to see if you were okay. But you don’t. What’s wrong with you?

I figured I must’ve been doing something wrong; I mean, everyone else had friends. Some had TONS of friends. To me, the answer was clear. It wasn’t them, it was me. Inevitably I started comparing myself to everyone else. If I just had that person’s clothes, that person’s athleticism, that person’s intelligence. But the kid I compared myself to most often was a classmate of mine named Felipe. He wasn’t a jock or some online celebrity, but he was one of those guys who EVERYONE liked. He just had this personality that people wanted to be around, and I thought it was because he was a quiet kid. Quiet. He was literally the OPPOSITE of High School Hunter.

High School Hunter was loud. Too loud for him to hear other people over his own voice. Most of his comedy routines revolved around making other people feel bad. He wasn’t really comfortable letting other people shine. And even though he wasn’t a track star or an awesome singer, he had to be the center of attention. Note: People often find that particular personality … well … annoying.

But after seeing Felipe’s success with friendships during our freshman year of high school, I was determined to be more like him. I looked at the summer break as a time for people to forget about who I was so that on the first day of sophomore year they could marvel at who I became. My plan was not going to be easy; it was going to take dedication and perseverance, but I promised myself I could do it. My plan was … to be quiet. This quiet would lead to an air of mystery that would make people ask one another, “Have you talked to Hunter? Me neither.” Or, “Did you hear what Hunter did this summer? … No one has.”

So on the first morning of the first day of sophomore year, I tried it. People would catch my eye and I would not say something at the top of my lungs. Then at lunch, I launched my milk out of my nose (on purpose) and yelled “I’m a walrus!” And that was the end of Quiet Hunter.

Junior year I tried again. I made it two whole days before I started impersonating my teacher’s foreign accent, in front of the class, directly to him. It was a great impersonation, but he was not a fan.

Senior year. I think I said a total of four words in two weeks; then I gave up and said four thousand words in the next two hours.

It seemed like no matter how quiet I’d be, no one would acknowledge what I was doing. That’s when it hit me: No one notices when you’re quiet. That’s like the definition of being quiet.

But senior year of high school, I realized the real issue was that people liked Felipe not just because he was quiet; everyone (including me) liked him because he listened. I once saw a couple break up, and then each separately go to Felipe, knowing he would give them real support since he genuinely cared about them both. He was kind and made everyone he interacted with feel like they were most important. Even when he talked to me, he was one of the few people who not only put up with me, but actually enjoyed hearing my jokes. He knew what he was good at and everyone appreciated him for that.

Not long after, I realized I was never going to be Felipe. I was never going to be the quiet one, and I was always going to crave that spotlight. So instead of investing all my energy in being someone else, I learned how to master my own qualities. If I was going to talk relentlessly, I was going to work really hard to make sure it was funny and worthwhile.

I also learned that though I didn’t actually want to be Felipe, I could still listen like he did. I realized that if I listened to people before talking, we would end up having these incredible things called “conversations” where I would learn about them and they would want to learn about me, and inevitably we would have more to talk about together. I also learned about self-deprecating humor (where the punch line is always yourself and no one gets hurt), and I learned about the conservation of words. I don’t need to be monk silent for the rest of my life, but the less I say makes what I do say that much more important or, in my case, funny. These things combined led me to the debate team, to spoken-word poetry, and to being the host of the school talent show. The debate team gave me a place to voice my opinions. Spoken-word poetry in my English teacher’s classroom led to all the different ways there were to speak my thoughts. And hosting the school talent show not only built my confidence as a public speaker, but it also showed me that my talent was hosting. Overall, I found places where my voice and humor were not only appreciated, but they were encouraged!

At the end of my senior year, I googled how to use iMovie and made a parody video of Lil Wayne’s “Prom Queen” called “Prom King.” My friend Randy shot the video, I made fake grills that said “Prom King,” and I used Auto-Tune to make my voice sound as much like Lil Wayne’s as possible. I even got the oldest teacher in the school to do a mock guitar solo for the video … and she nailed it. Looking back now, it’s remarkably embarrassing, but the kids at school thought it was hilarious, so they voted for me. I was elected prom king because I was funny, not because I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. (Okay, technically I was pretending to be Lil Wayne, but you know what I mean.)

To this day Felipe is a close friend who actually works as a park ranger, where his quiet personality is shared among the trees and the grass and the vastness of nature. Meanwhile, I’m a YouTuber and host, where talking nonstop is literally my job description.