It starts out with my better memories; I see myself smiling and laughing, running outside with my sister as we play in the sunshine. Little fingers dancing on a toy piano, sounding out children's songs until I get it perfectly. Compliments from numerous family members on my academic abilities, praising me for how hard I work in school to get the best grades. I see the people in my life regarding me as the author of the family, silly little stories scattered around my bedroom floor.

The memories have a warm feeling to them - a feeling of nostalgia. A soft smile is on my face as I watch a younger me with my tongue sticking out in concentration trying to figure out how to tie my shoes.

The images fade into one another, memories overlapping into a story - my story.