The only thing I see in the midnight sky are the stars. I don't notice the darkness. Why notice the dark when there are stars that shine brightly anyways? Every night, I see the stars and point to them. I turn to my friends and say, "Look! Can you see the stars?"

    All I get for an answer is the shakes of their heads.

    "You really can't see them?" I ask.

    "We can't, so stop bothering about it. We have better things to do than looking up at the pitch black sky," a girl rolls her eyes.

    I turn back to see the stars. I don't know why I feel this way. This feeling that starts off as a small flame in my chest and ignites to a bigger fire. I feel proud. I feel proud that I'm the only person who can see the stars. The stars are in the midnight sky because they're exclusively for me. No one else can see them. They're only reserved for me.

    Every night, I would turn to my friends and ask them the same question over and over, "Can you guys see the glittering stars stuck to the night sky that looks like dark colored velvet?"

    Their answers would always stay the same. "No. Do something more useful."

    I look up at the stars. Did I only see them? Were my friends lying about not seeing the stars? What was going on? Is feeling proud of knowing something for yourself good? Was I worthy of being the only one looking at the stars?

    Am I the only one who believes in stars?