Little Miss Perfect

I am a walking example of a hard core perfectionist.  I remember being in kindergarten and often being late to play time because I had to color the figures in completely without a dot outside the lines.
Looking back, my parents had set up very high expectations.  Both being teachers as well as considerably intelligent adults, I grew up in an environment of intellect and high expectations.
However, by the time I was in second grade, my need to be perfect did not stem from any parental expectations.  It was entirely self driven.
In third grade, I read the Harry Potter series, while my classmates were sticking to less precocious titles.
By sixth grade I had figured out that grades were not only perfect but a solid measurement of how good you are.  Since then, Bs and even A-s have made me cringe.  By the time I reached high school, I had figured out how to hit the straight A mark.  I read everything I could find on what I needed to prepare for college.
Last year I was in 6 extracurricular activities, set up to be President of the National Honors Society, a competitive dancer, volunteering in two places and finally reaching the highest GPA of my class.
I was perfect.
Two weeks before school ended, I bottomed out and missed the last two weeks.  I still ended up number one in my class.
To this day I miss feeling perfect so badly.  I feel under accomplished, lazy, and worthless. I'm not even going to college next year.
Realistically, perfect doesn't exist.  It's that one thing that you can reach for all you might, but is just too high.  Even when I thought I was perfect, I had no friends.  I wasn't happy.

Just some thoughts on what perfect means to all of us.  I feel more flawed than ever.