Once when I was young, in preschool, I thought that I was the smartest kid in my class. I remember thinking that I had a head start on everyone because I knew what 100 plus 100 was. My mom was proud of me for knowing this simple math equation.  I thought that I was above  everyone. But that wasn’t all. I also thought that the moon would follow me. It seemed like a friend was following me to wherever I went. The moon was a person that everyone knew, but that only cared about me, making me feel special. But I cared about the moon so much because, at this time in my life I had no friends, no one to express my thoughts or feelings to. While people had their imaginary friends, my friend wasn't even a person, rather a giant rock in our solar system. Mature and calm, for is the moon’s personality. The moon was a thing that can’t even talk so I talked for him.

This thought spawned whenever my mom and I went to the store to get groceries. When we came back the moon would follow me home. When I got home I would take a moment to look and stare at the moon itself, just standing there in my driveway, the street connecting to the driveway was lit by the streetlights lined up parallel across each other. The lightly glowing rock was still and calm. As I looked at it I see the craters in the rock, how even through millions of miles away, we can see its great detail in it. It looked like a glowing snow ball in the sky. When I walked back and forth it was still in its fixed position as if it still followed me even in the littlest of movements as I moved forward. It got swallowed in the neighbors trees, but still glowed through them. I could imagine looking at myself looking at the moon, the moonlight reflecting in my eyes with my mouth open. I looked to the side to see my dad looking also just staring while holding a beer in his hand taking the occasional sip by each half minute. It would seem like time stopped when ever we would look at it and all we would hear is the crickets chirping. What would it be like if I could see a blood moon?

I thought out of the 7 billion people on this Earth this giant rock millions of miles away just floating in space only cared about me. My sister told me that “it follows me too.” I looked at her with anger and disbelief, she wasn't as special as me, and I refused and said that she was lying to feel special. I was the special one, I was the one bound to this thing. No one knows where it came from, something that doesn't even produce its own light. Until my mom, the person who made me, the smartest person I knew told me it doesn't follow me. My heart was broken. I started crying because I thought I was the special person, no one was like me.

After that heart breaking day, I went to preschool, the day after. Someone told me that the moon followed him. I was the one, who told him the moon didn't follow him. I was the one to break his heart. Then he told me I was lying, but after that I was fine with the fact that the moon doesn't follow me.

I felt like I was so special, everyone cared about me, my mom, my sisters even the moon. Until… my brother was born. Before my brother I was the important one, the young one, the cute one but he took it all away from me. He was getting all the attention instead of me. So I tried my hardest to act like him so I could win of the attention and respect of my older sisters. I was trying so hard to win them over because I had no friends so winning their respect seemed like a vital achievement, a necessary accomplishment. But after trying and failing, I decided that it doesn't matter. The attention doesn't matter, what do you gain from attention, only the acknowledgment and acceptance of my sisters. That doesn't change anything. Why do I need to be popular in my own family? We’re basically the same people, same DNA and everything. As I reflect on the situation, like the moon reflecting the light from the sun, I realise that the moon is for everyone who it follows, not for one person, or a select group.