I lay in the sun and I can hear the music in my head. The violin, the piano. The music of my future. It swells and I breathe in, feeling the desire for greatness grow in my soul. To be known, is yo be remembered, and my memory will last long after my death. The history books will know my name, will know my songs. I won’t be matched; I will grow and climb and play my way to the top, ambition in hand and a hunger in my chest. I will be famous. I will be _extraordinary. _