Almost two years ago, in the middle of my sophomore year of high school, I packed up everything and moved from a small town in Georgia to a much larger town in Michigan. I had lived in Georgia for my entire life, and I knew just about everything in Michigan would be different: the accents, the weather, the population of my town, the list goes on. Despite this, I was open to leaving my home state behind. Both of my parents obtained better jobs, and we would be just a few short hours from family that I typically only saw once a year. When I started school in Michigan, I had to adjust to a new schedule and meeting new people. I met friends from a wide variety of backgrounds, and they were all interested in hearing about my life in Georgia. This
