Sometimes, I wish I was famous

I just watched "I'm Reed Fish." I get bothered by these small-town-hero movies; they make me wonder if I should be disappointed in myself. Aren't there people back in White Salmon who expected me to do something?
I thought I was full of magic and visions when I stepped out of that school, with my honor chords and scholarships and a whopping seventy-six other students in my class. My transcripts looked great, my GPA was almost perfect (let me take this opportunity to tell the world that I scored a 30 on the ACT); all signs pointed to me being a success at something.
Perhaps I've reached that part of growing up when I see clearly where my foundation is made of confetti. I'm not really indebted to that long-haired people-pleaser with a rubber chicken in her backpack. I don't have to live her dreams any more than I have to live anyone else's.
What a concept. What a concept for someone who avoided her 10-year reunion because she'd gained 50 pounds since graduation. Guess I have some more growing up to do.
Now to figure out what I really want to do with myself.