And one morning you sit putting stamps on your short story submissions and thinking that you should probably designate a shelf in the new music room bookcase (when you get one) for some of the magazines and books you've got stuff in, because the library tables are overflowing a bit, and it'll only get worse in the summer, and possibly one or two examples would be more tasteful than the entire collection. And it hits you that all those times people said, "I know you can do this," it was because they knew you could do this. Because you can, you are. But it sounded so much like, "You can be anything you want to be!" and, "You are limited only by your dreams!", and you knew those were lies. You couldn't have been just anything.
But you can be this.