Larger Than Gaston, Indiana

I used to believe I was so much bigger than Gaston, Indiana. My surroundings have always been what inspired me most, and in a small town where a corn stalk at times acts as my sole friend, living here has felt like this merry-go-round of monotony. I disagree with the people, I hate the weather, and every time I try to rage against the machine, I'm met with lead-poisoned stares and confusion about what I could possibly be that mad for. I remember being a kid, and blowing a gasket at the smallest injustice imaginable. I can still picture my first-grade self conspiring with my pint-sized cohorts about how to ensure our least favorite teacher gets fired. She still works at the school to this day. I waved at her yesterday in the elementary school
The silence of the corn fields taught me peace, they showed me how when everything feels like it's burning down, the Earth still moves at the same speed. Most importantly, they've taught me who I really, truly am. I used to believe I was so much bigger than Gaston, Indiana. But now I realize that everything I am is something Gaston shaped me to be. I dreamt of ascending to heights unheard of, to spite everyone from my hometown who ever doubted me. But as I face my final days as a Gaston who wakes up to the sight of corn stalks acting as brush strokes illustrating the morning sky, I now wish to become someone who can make Gaston proud. To be a champion for all those who fear they may never rise above their circumstances. To represent those who dread becoming another statistic. As a small town kid, it can sometimes feel as though the outer world wants nothing more than to laugh in your face. In my future, I aim to laugh right back. I want to tell Gaston's story to everyone who listens. I wanna bring a camera crew followed by a marching band followed by the biggest parade in history, because as much as I used to hate to admit it, Gaston is my home, and I wanna bring that piece of me everywhere I